


Dare You To Move

by Mont_Girl_Of_Lumatere



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: #WineMumThranduil, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Apples, Archery, Arranged Marriage, Blackmail, Dwalin Is A Softie, Ever After Reference, F/M, Falling In Love, Feasts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Interfering families, Kings & Queens, Love Stories, Most of it takes place over 6 day so in reality it's not very slow, Oblivious Bard, Oblivious Thorin, Political Alliances, Politics, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Reconciliation, Scheming Siblings, Siblings, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Tournaments, but also not slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mont_Girl_Of_Lumatere/pseuds/Mont_Girl_Of_Lumatere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each year since their victorious alliance, the respective Kings and Councilmen of Erebor, Dale, and The Woodland Realm gathered together in one of their great cities for the duration of five days. During this time they would spend the daylight hours debating and discussing the maintenance of their alliance, and then by night the people gathered together to celebrate.<br/>In the midst of the complex political negotiations, Prince Fili learns what it means to be a great King from the one person who just might be his Queen, while Kíli and Tauriel struggle to keep their illicit relationship hidden from those who would keep them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pride

**Author's Note:**

> In the hobbit tradition of giving others a gift on you birthday, this is my gift to you, beautiful people. All your kindness and enthusiasm for my writing never ceases to blow me away. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this mostly fluffy fic (sorry but it wouldn't be me if there wasn't a good dash of angst/pain/drama).  
> Mont Girl of Lumatere xxx  
> P.S All feedback is welcome

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Little Lion Man" - Mumford and Sons** _

 

 

  
_Weep for yourself, my man,_  
_You'll never be what is in your heart_  
_Weep, little lion man,_  
_You're not as brave as you were at the start_  
_Rate yourself and rake yourself_  
_Take all the courage you have left_  
_And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head_

 

* * *

 

 

Fíli hated these meetings. Malah was surely punishing him. He had survived a Troll Hoard cave, Goblin-town, the Mirkwood Jail, and climbed through a Laketown privy; and yet he'd still rather be  _anywhere_ else than in this meeting. 

 

Each year since their victorious alliance, the respective Kings and Councilmen of Erebor, Dale, and The Woodland Realm gathered together in one of their great cities for the duration of five days. During this time they would spend the daylight hours debating and discussing the maintenance of their alliance, and then by night the people gathered together to celebrate.

 

During the previous year, the Council had been held in Erebor, and it had been nothing short of magnificent. The cavernous stone halls of the Mountain had been festooned with banners of cobalt and gold that proudly proclaimed the emblems of Durin's folk. The very stone itself seemed to shine and sparkle in the golden light of the merrily roaring fires that filled the hearths. But best of all had been the feast held each night. Tables lined the Gallery of Kings from end to end, each one positively groaning under the weight of dishes upon dishes of rich, succulent meats, and interspersed with the best array of produce that Dale could offer. The Elves, naturally, supplied the drink. 

 

That year, Fíli had only been required at the opening and closing of the Council meetings, for ceremony rather than participation. This had meant he was free to pass the days with the warriors of the three races; showing off and honing their skills with blade and arrow. But since then, Thorin and Balin had decided that in his capacity as heir Fíli needed to take a more active interest in the political operations of Erebor.

 

And so this year, the third year, Fíli sat beside Thorin at the oversized table in the King’s Hall of Dale. The afternoon sun filtered in through high mullioned windows, its lazy beams reflecting off of the restored bell of Dale that hung at the end of the hall, and Fíli wished he was _anywhere_ but here.

 

 

          "My answer is no!" Bard’s fist landed hard on the table as his voice echoed throughout the stone hall.

 

It was only the first day and somehow the negotiations had already deteriorated into shouting.

 

          The King of the renewed Kingdom of Dale glared at the Elvenking. "That land provides my people with the food on their tables and the clothes on their backs; it is the very lifeblood that sustains us! They cannot afford to have it repurposed for a garrison."

 

          "If your kingdom is not protected, you will have no people to feed." Thranduil replied evenly. “You have gold enough to sustain your kingdom for hundreds of years to come, do you not?”

 

A few of the Dwarves around the table nodded, keenly aware of just how much gold Dale had received, though they harboured no ill will towards the men on that account.

 

          “It’s not a simple as that!” Bard exclaimed. “No amount of gold can summon a harvest from soil that is dead. Fire and sickness still choke these lands, and the few fields that have yielded a harvest are only enough to see my people through and maintain our trade with Erebor.”

 

The councillors of Dale, who sat alongside their King, as well as a few chosen representatives of the people of Dale who were seated in chairs along the edge of the room, murmured in assent.

 

          “And yet,” Thranduil’s curt voice cut through the murmuring. “The problem remains that unless that border is properly guarded you will have no people to feed.”

 

Bard's knuckles whitened as they gripped the edge of the table, and Fíli’s interest was briefly sparked at the possibility of having a prime position to view a duel between the two.

 

          Sensing the same imminent possibility, Balin hastened to interject. "Perhaps the land by the Lake might yield Dale its subsistence?”

          

          Bard turned his eyes on Balin, their fury abating into sadness. "There are few here who will venture back to the shores of the Lake. They cannot face it.”

 

Nobody spoke.

 

Fíli did not wonder that many of the survivors had no wish to return. During their years of exile, the Dwarves of Erebor had pined for the Mountain because it was still their home. But Laketown wasn’t a home anymore, only a memory of flame, and death.

 

          "That is most understandable." Balin acknowledged. “All scars take their time to heal…even the ones we cannot see.”

 

Thorin shifted ever so slightly in his chair as Balin shuffled through the papers before him.

 

          “Well then, it seems that a trade may be our best option; the border plains for another pocket of fertile land."

 

Sigrid cleared her throat and caught her father’s eye meaningfully from where she sat beside her brother and the Dale representatives along the edge of the room. Fíli and the rest of the room looked on curiously.

 

The Lady Sigrid had grown since they had first met in Laketown. The past three years had brought forth a young woman of keen understanding and fierce spirit, although the kind softness of her youth lingered in her smile and in her heart. Fíli had seldom encountered her in the intervening years, simply because their paths had not crossed, and when they had spoken it had been brief and always in the company of numerous others. But on the night Laketown burned, when they had all come so close to death, the experience had forged a bond between the dwarf and the human. It was an unspoken connection, something that neither of them could articulate. But then again after that night of death and destruction, reason and explanations felt meaningless.

 

          Bard nodded at Sigrid, seemingly in acknowledgement of a previous conversation and then cleared his throat. "Perhaps, the valley between Dale and Erebor might-" he began, but Thorin cut him off.

 

          "No. That land was hard fought and won. I will not trade it."

 

          Bard threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. "How are my people supposed to rebuild when they are asked to provide yet receive nothing in return?”

 

          "You forget that yours is not the only Kingdom that is trying to rebuild, nor are your people the only ones to have suffered." The Mountain King replied darkly.

 

There was a muttering of ascent from the Dwarves and a hiss of malevolence from the Men.

 

The Elvenking's son cleared his throat, and the condescension in his tone instantly set Fili’s teeth on edge. He had never quite forgiven the Elf for returning his weapons in considerably worse condition than they had been in _before_ he was thrown into the Mirkwood dungeons.

 

All heads turned towards the lithe blond Elf.

 

          “This alliance has always been about sacrifice; my people offer their lives in service of protecting the lands of the three Kingdoms.” He proclaimed loud and clear. “Dale and Erebor must play their part."

 

This got all King's men of Dale on their feet, each one of their faces flaming, their fists clenched.

 

          "Nobody has given more than the people of Dale!" One cried out.

 

          "Our people died for these three kingdoms!"

 

          The corner of Thranduil's mouth curled. "Not by _my_ kingdom was the blood of the men of Dale spilled." And his eyes flicked to Thorin. 

 

          "And the blood of Erebor," Fili cried out, white hot fury coursing through his veins at the words. "Was that not spilled when _your_ kingdom did not come to our aid!"

 

The dwarves beside him nodded and grunted sounds of approval.

 

          "No." Thranduil replied coldly. "The blood of the Dwarves of Erebor was spilled by the greed of _their_ King."

 

Before Fíli knew it he was on his feet and shouting, white hot rage pounding in his heart. Yet he had no inkling of what he said because the moment Thranduil had spoken, all the Dwarves were at once upon their feet in an uproar and the Elves rose to match them.

 

It was chaos. There was pushing and shoving as accusations and insults were cast across the table like arrows. Fíli felt something brush past his shoulder, but he was too busy shouting at the Elvenking's arrogant son to care.

 

Then suddenly, the deep sonorous sound of a bell punctuated the cacophony of shouts and everyone fell silent. Heads whipped around in shock and eyes locked upon the raised platform at the front of the room to see... the Lady Sigrid, holding the bell rope in her hand and a dagger in the other… a very familiar looking dagger.

 

Fili’s hand flew automatically to the sheath at his belt. Finding it empty, he stared at the girl with his mouth slightly ajar, realizing that she must have swiped it from him and used it to release the clapper of the newly cast bell.

 

          The last of the gongs reverberated throughout the hall as Sigrid lowered her hand. "That is enough!” She seethed, glaring at the frozen figures before her. “You are the Kings and leaders of your kingdoms. Your people look up to you; they trust you to be their voice. But for all of your shouting I can’t hear anything.”

 

Fíli was taken aback. Sigrid had always struck him as a rather quiet girl, strong and fiercely protective of her family but not one to raise her voice to a Council of Kings. Yet there she stood before Men, Elves, and Dwarves, each battle hardened and more powerful than her, but all rendered humble by her scathing words.

 

            “Negotiations can be a difficult business, my Lady.” Balin offered apologetically. “Sometimes we can get…carried away.”

 

            “Correct me if I am wrong, Master Balin.” Sigrid said amicably. “But I wasn’t aware that the Prince of Erebor shouting that the Prince of the Woodland Realm is a beardless tree swiving pixie, had anything to do with negotiating a land trade.”

 

There was a snort of hastily stifled laughter from a few of the councilmen and even Balin's lips twitched.

 

Fili felt his face flame in chagrin.

 

          Sigrid looked down at the crowd soberly. "It has been three years.  _Three years,_  and I know that I will never forget those days or those we lost. But if we dwell on those hurts and wrongs then we will never move forwards." She fixed them all with blazing eyes. "You are Kings and leaders. So for the sake of your people, start acting like it!"

 

She stepped down from the raised platform and was met with a stunned silence.

 

But Sigrid hesitated a moment, as if she suddenly didn’t quite know where to turn. For all the conviction and authority in her voice, her mind whispered that she had just chastised a room full of Kings. Had she shamed her Da? Would they throw her out?

 

          Bard stepped towards her. "What would I do without you, my girl." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow. Feeling herself start to breathe again, Sigrid placed her foot firmly on the ground.

 

There was such pride upon Bard’s face as he accompanied her back to her seat at the edge of the room that Fíli felt a slight pang of jealousy amidst his embarrassment.

 

          When Bard returned he cleared his throat. "My daughter is correct. We have forgotten ourselves in our pride, and so our purpose in these chambers. I invite you all to be seated once more and we will endeavour to remember our duty and our privilege."

 

They took their seats in silence.

 

          "This does not resolve the issue at hand." Thranduil spoke up at last, straightening his robes as if Sigrid’s scorching censure had not affected him. "The defence of our Kingdoms is of the _utmost_ importance."

 

Bard closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

 

          "Perhaps we might return to the issue on another day." Balin suggested quickly. "We have five days after all."

 

There was some muttering around the table, but Thranduil nodded his head curtly and so the matter was put to rest for the time being.

 

 

As the meeting wore on Fíli could not wrangle his thoughts into concentration. Embarrassment and anger simmered beneath his skin.

 

_Sigrid had shamed him, before the Kings of the Alliance, before the leaders of his people... Before Thorin…_

 

After everything that had happened, after he had openly defied his uncle repeatedly at the final stages of their quest, Fili no longer knew where he stood with Thorin. There was a veiled uncertainty in his uncles’ eyes when he looked at him that had never been there before. In all honesty, Fili wondered if Thorin saw the same thing in his eyes; the disillusionment. All he knew for certain was that Sigrid had not helped matters.

 

Fíli clenched his hands beneath the table as Bard outlined a new proposed route between Dale and the Mountain, while Sigrid listened with rapt attention, Fili’s dagger still clutched in her hand.

 

_Hadn't he once thrown himself between her and an Orc blade back in Laketown? Shouldn't she be grateful instead of proving herself at his expense?_

 

These untamed thoughts ran around and around his head.

 

 

          As the glow of the afternoon sun shifted into deep crimson, Bard cleared his throat. "That will be all for today, but I invite you to join my family and our people later this evening for a feast."

 

There was a murmur of appreciative anticipation as chairs were drawn back from the wooden table and the delegates began to gather their papers and possessions.

 

Fíli rose swiftly to his feet, scanning the room.

 

The Lady Sigrid stood by the door, _his_ dagger still in _her_ hand as the departing men of Dale spoke to her of their eagerness for the coming feast.

 

Sigrid smiled as one of her father’s men counted on two hands the number of cakes the baker had prepared for the occasion when she felt a sudden tingling as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She looked around.

 

His eyes met hers before moving pointedly to the dagger still in her hand. Sigrid excused herself and began to make her way towards Prince Fíli, pushing gently past Balin as she did.

 

          "I believe this is yours." She held up the dagger, her expression contrite.

 

           "You stole it from me." He accused bluntly.

 

          " _Borrowed_." Sigrid corrected, frowning slightly. "I was always going to give it back."

 

Fíli glowered and held out his hand for it.

 

Sigrid returned the dagger and Fíli took it back swiftly, stowing it back in its rightful place while she watched.

 

          "You know, it would be harder to steal if you had it clipped in." She suggested a hint of a smirk on her lips.

 

That struck a nerve.

 

          "I don't need any advice from you." He snapped furiously. "This was a meeting for The Kings and their advisors, not ungrateful thieves."

 

Fili regretted the words the instant he had said them. He watched her face transform from confused, to hurt, and then to anger. But like a knife wound, he couldn’t undo the damage.

 

          Sigrid drew herself up and Fíli almost stepped backwards, such was the malediction in her words. "If that is what you truly think, then _I_ am not the only one who doesn’t belong in a room of Kings." She spat, and then turned on her heels, leaving Fíli feeling worse than he had before.

And he didn’t know why, but hearing those words from her lips was far worse than hearing his own voice repeat them in his head.

 

Breathing deeply he turned around, only to come face to face with Balin. The old dwarf regarded him with such disappointment that Fíli was made to feel as small as he had when being chastised in his youth.

 

          "I thought better of you, lad." Balin said sadly.

 

          "But she stole from me and then humiliated me.” He attested weakly. “Was I not right to be angry?"

 

          "Angry; perhaps. But not rude and unkind."

 

Fíli hung his head.

 

          “What happened to the young dwarf who once refused to eat his supper unless it was shared amongst the poorest of our exiles?” Balin asked.

 

All around them the Councillors continued to exchange formalities.

 

_What had happened? The person he had once been was a distant memory now; same face, same voice, but a different spirit._

 

          The old dwarf reached out a kind hand to his shoulder. "Seek her out, make amends."

 

Fíli looked up, about to protest, but at the memory of the hurt in Sigrid's eyes, his mouth closed and he nodded.

 

          Balin’s mouth stretched into a smile. "There's a good lad. Now,” he rubbed his hands together. "I do believe that we have a feast to attend." And with that, he turned away to join Thorin and the rest of the delegates, leaving Fíli to follow along in their wake, pondering what on earth he could say to make up for what he had done.

 


	2. Dread

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

 **"Oblivion" - Bastille**  


 

When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder.  
When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper.

Are you going to age with grace?  
Are you going to age without mistakes?

 

* * *

 

 

            “Hurry up, Sigrid! I want to get to the feast!” Tilda huffed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and causing the folds of her new periwinkle dress to swish about her.

 

            “You won’t miss the feast, Tilda; it’s set to last the entire night.” Sigrid assured her from where she sat in front of the dresser.

 

            “But what if we run out of _food_?” Tilda moaned.

 

            “That’s a good point, especially with all those Dwarves attending.” Sigrid agreed gravely, the corners of her mouth twitching. “And just think of all those scrumptious

sweetmeats and sugarcakes...”

 

Tilda glowered at her. 

 

            “I’ll be along in a minute.” Sigrid chuckled. “I promise.”

 

            “Fine.” Tilda huffed. “But if they start arriving, I _will_ leave without you.” She turned and skipped along to Bain’s room to chivvy him along.

 

Sigrid turned back to the mirror and fixed upon her reflection. These days she often had to blink twice to recollect that the person she saw there was indeed herself.

 

She knew that some of the people, particularly those who had once been loyal to the Master of Laketown, whispered that it was not her place to sit on her father’s Council. She was expected to attend to other matters, to act like a Lady and leave the running of the Kingdom to the King. But Sigrid and her Da had always shared their troubles from the time Sigrid was a little girl. Whether it had been the teasing children of her youth or scrounging enough food for the winter, Sigrid and her Da would sit at the kitchen table with a steaming mug nestled in their frozen hands and just listen to each other. Since then, much had changed; their house on the Lake was ash, her Da was a King, and she… she was a Princess. The only thing that had not changed was that they were father and daughter.

So when Bard saw the keen interest in her eyes, he drew her up a chair at the Council as if they were sitting at their Laketown kitchen, and at first Sigrid listened to the problems that plagued their kingdom, and then she began to offer her thoughts and ideas. As time had passed the councillors had grown to value her opinion, but that didn’t stop the whispers on the streets from creeping their way into the dark corners of her mind to mingle with her doubts and fears.

 

            “Is it safe to come in, or should I expect to be told off?” A voice called from behind her.

 

   Sigrid swivelled around to see her Da standing in the doorway. “I can make no promises, but you may certainly come in.” She grinned.

 

Bard stepped through the door wearing a tunic of dark emerald silk, embroidered with swirling patterns along the collar and a simple coronet of gold resting on his dark hair.

 

            “You look very fancy, Da.” Sigrid remarked.

 

            “ _Fancy!_ ” Bard scoffed. “I feel like a fool. I miss my old coat.”

 

            “Perhaps your next decree as King ought to outlaw forcing formal attire on unwilling victims.” Sigrid suggested with a grin.

 

            “I’ll have it drafted immediately.” Bard agreed in utter seriousness, sitting himself down upon the closed wooden chest at the foot of her bed.

 

Sigrid smiled, turning back to the mirror as she tried to fix a last loose strand of hair into place.

 

             “The years have passed very quickly, have they not?” Bard sighed.

 

            “Aye, a few years ago we would never have thought to attend a feast.”

 

            Bard smiled sadly. “A few years ago you were still my little Sig.”

 

            Sigrid turned back to her father. “I’ll always be your Sig, you know that.”

 

            Bard drew in a deep breath. “I do, it’s just…” he patted the space beside him.

 

            Sigrid stood, a small furrow creasing her brow as she sat beside him. “Da, what is it?”

 

            “I have had replies from the letters we sent out...the letters concerning your betrothal.”

            

            Sigrid’s stomach lurched. It seemed like months ago that they had been sent out. “What did they say?” she asked quietly.

 

            “They have accepted. Men from the surrounding kingdoms will arrive in ten days’ time to present themselves as perspective husbands.” To Sigrid’s horror her Da lent forwards, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry Sigrid. I never wanted this for you; I never wanted my position as King to rule your life.” 

           

            “Da!” She gently pried his hands away from his face. “I agreed to this, remember. Think of what such an arrangement could do for Dale! We need more land than Erebor or the Woodland Realm is prepared to offer, and another alliance will only protect our people. Think of Bain and Tilda; if an offer is enough, they will be free to marry whomever they choose.” She spoke the words aloud just as she had repeated them in her mind, but this time she masked the dread.

           

            “And you?” Bard asked. “Don’t you want to be free to marry and love whoever you wish?”

           

            “Who’s to say that I won’t come to love my husband in time?” Sigrid said bracingly.

           

            “He would be a fool not to love you, my darling.” He squeezed her hand and then looked earnestly at her. “You will have a say in the matter, I promise you that. Regardless of protocol and regardless of what is offered; my priority will be your happiness.”

           

            “I know, Da.” Sigrid whispered, unable to stop her lip trembling. “You have always put us first.” She leant her head against his shoulder and Bard leant his own on top of hers. “Can we not announce it yet, just until after the Alliance Council has ended?” The matter would surely be of no interest to the Elves and Dwarves.

       

            Bard nodded. “Of course.”

 

Echoing down the corridor came the sounds of Tilda coming back towards them, and by the sound of the accompanying complaints, she must have dragging Bain in tow.

 

            Bard sighed and stood up. “Shall we go and greet our guests then?” he offered the crook of his arm.

 

Sigrid stood and took it with a determined smile, and they walked together out of the chamber.

 

 

 

 

Sigrid kept a stiff upper lip during the feast, standing beside her father and greeting their guests with all the warmth and respect as was her duty, but inside she was reeling.

 

As the night wore on she grew more and more agitated; there were too many people around, to many people pushing, too many people asking questions, too many people wanting something from her… trapping her…

 

            She stood abruptly from her spot at the table and walked around to whisper into her father’s ear. “I’m just stepping out to get some fresh air.”

 

Bard looked as if he wanted to say something more but his attention was called upon and Sigrid was grateful to slip away.

 

Sigrid needed a moment to fall apart. She needed a moment to come to terms with what she would now most certainly lose, because regardless of her Da’s assurances, she was selling a part of herself to the highest bidder to save her Kingdom and her family. She needed to do this alone.

 

Sigrid was almost to the door when Prince Fíli stepped into her path, dressed in full regal attire and looking every bit the carefree, entitled Prince he was.

 

            “Lady Sigrid…”

 

_She didn’t want to be here. She needed to get out._

 

            “I just wanted to say…”

 

_It was too hot. She couldn’t breathe._

 

            "Leave me alone!" She snapped at him. Then she pushed past him and made for the door, leaving a stunned Fíli in her wake.

 

 

Sigrid burst onto the balcony, gasping in the crisp clear night air as she leant against the balcony, her eyes shut to the world. It was like someone had released a pressure value in her head, and suddenly the blood pumped clear and strong throughout her entire body.

 

            “What did he do to deserve that?”

 

She whipped around to see Tauriel slipping through the double door as they swung closed behind her.

 

Since the battle and after she had been banished from the Woodland Realm, Tauriel had found a new home in Dale. The survivors had welcomed her with open arms and she had been accepted into the new Guard. Now, she was Captain of the Archers of Dale; a squadron comprised predominantly of young men and women in reverent awe of their Elven Captain and their Bowman King. However her foremost position was as one of the King’s Men, the irony of which was not lost on her. Sigrid, with whom she had developed a fierce kinship, had suggested the position for her as it meant that any time they were called upon to visit the Mountain, Tauriel could accompany them and enjoy all the benefit of the trip. But nobody else knew of the particular benefits in this design apart from Tauriel, Sigrid, and Kíli.

 

            Sigrid sighed. “He didn’t. Well… he _almost_ deserved it.”

 

Tauriel raised her eyebrows.

 

            “It’s a long story.” Sigrid explained.

 

The Elf nodded sagely. She walked over to stand next to Sigrid and they looked together over the flickering lights of Dale.

 

            “Sigrid, there is something troubling you -"

 

Sigrid made to open her mouth in denial but Tauriel continued.

 

            “-and you do not have to tell me what it is unless you want to.” She insisted.  “But take it from me; it never does anybody any good when you leave things on bad terms. Regret can be more potent than any Morgul Blade.”

 

Sigrid sighed. She knew Tauriel was right.

 

            Tauriel patted her shoulder sympathetically. “He’s going to be here for five more days, you will have plenty of time to reconcile.”

 

Sigrid closed her eyes; she didn’t want to think about what would happen after those five days.

 


	3. Mistake

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

_" **Brother"** \- Mighty Oaks_

_And I'd follow you_   
_To the end of the world if only you would ask me to_   
_On and on we go, my brother_   
_I've got you_   
_Nothing to stop us now_   
_Because we found in life what's true_   
_Oh my brother I'd follow you_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fíli awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed, the daggers he kept ready under his pillow already in hand as something heavy landed with a crash through his open window. He squinted blearily as a tangled mess of limbs and dark hair straightened up, revealing itself to be none other than Kíli.

 

            “Morning, brother. I see that you’re ready for the day ahead.” Kíli remarked blithely, as if he hadn’t just come tumbling through the window of a fourth-floor building in the early hours of the morning. “You know, you really ought to lose that habit,” he said, nodding at the daggers still in Fíli’s hands. “Should you ever decide to marry, your wife might be jealous that you keep your daggers closer than her.”

 

He had turned and made as if to walk towards the side door that adjoined their rooms when one of the daggers that had been in Fíli’s hand buried itself in the wood beside the handle.

 

            “Don’t think that you can just walk out of here without telling me where you’ve been.” Fíli called to his brother’s back. He blinked, taking in Kíli’s appearance. “Are you still wearing the same clothes from last night?” And then suddenly the pieces fell into place in his mind. Fili groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Durin’s beard, Kíli! What were you doing with that Elf?”

 

Thorin was going to murder Kíli. Sure, their mother would probably have him revived, but then Thorin would just murder him again. Thorin still didn’t know about Kíli’s Elf, nobody did except those who had been at Bard’s house in Laketown, and even they did not know that the affection had gone beyond those frantic days, all expect for Fíli. Although now…

 

            “Calm down.” Kíli soothed, wrenching the dagger from the door and walking over to hand it back to his brother. “We just spent the night together. Not like _that_!” he added, in response to the way Fili had blanched. “We just spent the night together under the stars, _fully clothed._ Well actually,” he smirked. “that part is a lie; we were _partially_ clothed. But nothing else happened.” He sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

            Fíli leant forwards and whacked his brother across the back of the head. “Are you an idiot, or an idiot?' he hissed.

 

            “Ouch!” Kíli cried indignantly, rubbing his head. “The first one. I resent being called the second.”

 

            Fili groaned in exasperation. “How could you be so reckless? What if Thorin found out? He’d skin you alive!”

 

            “So I just won’t tell him.”

 

            “Oh, _brilliant_ plan.” Fíli scoffed. “And tomorrow when you fall through his window instead of mine, then what are you going to say?”

 

            “ _That_ was a mistake,” Kíli assured him. “I miscounted the windows.”

 

            Fíli sighed long-sufferingly. “Did anyone see you?”

 

            “Ummm… well, a guard found us this morning.”

           

          _"What!"_

 

            Kíli shuffled away from his brother, eyeing the hand that had only recently made contact with the back of his head. “It’s not as bad as you think. You see, Tauriel was at the feast and we hadn’t had a chance to see each other in private so we met on the parapet later that night after you left in a huff.”

 

Fíli glared at him.

 

            “I wasn’t planning on staying out all night, but… well, we fell asleep, and it wasn’t until a guard came along on patrol that we were caught.” Kíli grinned to himself. “It seemed to be quite the shock; I don’t think the poor lad ever saw a bare chested dwarf before.”

 

            Fíli frowned. “Wouldn't Tauriel have gotten in trouble for having you up there with her?”

 

            Kíli’s smile faded a little. “Normally she would have, but luckily Sigrid was already up and about and she heard the commotion. She came and sorted the whole thing out.” Kíli grinned again. “You should have seen it; Smaug would have had nothing on her! She told the guard that if he breathed a word of what he had seen then she would have him assigned as her personal guard and would make his life a misery. Then, she told me where to find a ladder, and said I needed to put on a shirt and get out of there before somebody else caught us.” He folded his hand on his lap. “So it all worked out rather well in the end.”

 

            “ _Rather well_? Kí, you got caught!”

 

            “Yeah, but Sigrid won’t tell anyone.” Kíli assured earnestly. “And trust me; that guard won’t be telling; Sigrid knows how to put the fear of the Valar into any man, or dwarf."

 

            Fili scowled again, and then a thought popped into his head. “Did Sigrid say where she was going?”

 

            “Something about a Reading Hall, I think.” Kíli frowned. “You don’t have to talk to her Fí; she’ll keep her word.”

 

            Fíli sighed. “It’s not that. I said something after the meeting yesterday that I shouldn’t have, and I need to apologise to her.”

 

            This time it was Kíli who reached forwards and smacked his brother across the back of the head. "You oaf. What did you say?”

                       

            Fíli averted his eyes. “I told her she didn’t belong at the council meeting because she wasn’t a King.” 

 

Kíli let out a low whistle.

           

            “I know, I know; I shouldn’t have said it. I was angry and a hurt… but that’s no excuse. I really hurt her feelings, and Mahal knows I was wrong.”

 

            Kíli sat back. “At least these meetings won’t be as dull as you thought.” He stood up. “I’m going to my room to pretend that I woke up there.” Halfway towards the door he turned back to Fíli. “Well, I guess this is it, brother. It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

 

            Fíli frowned. “Why do you say that?”

 

            Kíli opened the door to his room, a sly grin on his face. “Because if the scowl on her face this morning was anything to go by; she has _definitely_ not forgotten what you said.” Then he left.

 

Fíli slumped back onto his pillows with a groan, dreading having to face Sigrid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue between the brothers is borrowed from Melina Marchetta's "Froi of the Exiles". If you like this fic, go and read those books now. I promise, they will change your life.


	4. Forgiveness

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"King and Lionheart"** \- Of Monsters and Men_

_Howling ghosts – they reappear_   
_In mountains that are stacked with fear_   
_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart._   
_A lionheart._

 

* * *

 

Fíli lost his way twice.

 

The Reading Hall was tucked in behind the bustle of the main streets; a nondescript stone façade amongst many similarly restored buildings, so at first glance he had not taken it for what it was. But then his eyes caught the sign that hung over a side street announcing the Reading Hall of Dale, and he strode towards it.

 

Hesitating for a moment, his hands splayed upon the wooden double-doors, he squared his shoulders and pushed them open only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

 

The Hall appeared to have been repaired very recently. The dark wooden bookshelves that lined the high stone walls still carried the smell of the forest, permeating the air with a fresh earthy scent. The shelves were only sparsely filled. Volumes were speckled here and there, while a great many still stood empty. But what caught his breath was the high narrow windows that ran the length of the Hall, catching the sunlight and filtered it through the ornate silhouettes of iron that lay across them. These patterns were wrought in the likeness of figures, fire, and dragons so that the shadows they cast upon the length floor told a story; the story of Dale. 

 

The shadows from the two opposing walls fell on either side of carpeted walkway that led down the centre of the Reading Hall. In a daze, Fíli followed the story, crouching down at the shadow of a particular panel to trace a particular outline.

 

            "It seems like a legend when you see it like that.”

 

He stood up quickly, spinning around to see the Lady Sigrid standing behind him, an old leather-bound book in her hands as she too gazed at the shadow.

 

            “Sometimes it doesn’t feel quite real…any of it; Smaug, Da; a King, me; a Princess…" she trailed off, her eyes fixed on a panel that depicted the outline of Dale as it stood today, a tall acorn tree sprouting from within its walls.

 

Fíli opened his mouth, but the speech that he had planned on saying would not come.

 

            She broke from her reverie and looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

 

He noted with some relief that the hostility in her voice from the night before was gone, but the hurt still evident in her eyes.

 

            He swallowed. “I came to say that I was wrong when I said that you didn’t belong at the council because you stole my dagger from me.”

 

When Sigrid raised an eyebrow Fíli hastened to correct himself.

 

            “Or because you are a Princess, instead of a King or Heir.”

 

The narrowing of Sigrid’s eyes told him that this was going from bad to worse.

 

            “What I mean is…” he floundered around helplessly for the right words that wouldn’t offend her any further.

 

            Sigrid just stared at him impassively. “You're not very good at giving apologies, are you?”

 

            “No. No I'm not.” Fíli admitted with a sigh.

 

            “You could try saying sorry?” she suggested.

 

            “Is that all it takes?”

 

            “Well, it depends on how you say it, but sometimes, yes.”

 

            “Then, I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. 

 

            “And I forgive you.” She swallowed. “About what I said last night; it wasn’t about you. Actually, it was about you, a bit.” Sigrid corrected herself hastily.  “I _was_ angry at you and I _did_ mean what I said, but you didn’t deserve to be shouted at, regardless of the fact that what you said was rude, hurtful, conceited and-” She stopped at the expression on his face.

 

            “You’re not very good at apologies, are you?” Fíli smirked.

 

            Sigrid smiled faintly. “I’m sorry.”

 

            “You’re forgiven. We both said things that we regret.”

 

            Sigrid nodded and held out her hand in the space between them. “Friends?”

 

            “Friends.” Fíli shook her hand, feeling the gesture was oddly formal.

 

Sigrid let go and turned away, walking to sit at a desk laden with old books.

 

Fíli watched her go. He ought to have been satisfied; she had forgiven him, his conscience was cleared. And yet he could not reconcile himself to walk out those doors as things were now, something held him there.

 

            "Lady Sigrid."

 

            She looked up, one of the shadows from the window above darkening her face. “Yes?”

 

            "Will you to teach me.”

 

Sigrid frowned in confusion.

 

            “Yesterday you didn’t think I was worthy of leading my people. Would you teach me what is it that makes a worthy King?"

 

Sigrid stared at him, stunned. Just yesterday he had accused her of meddling in political affairs, yet today he wanted her advice, _her_ advice, on how to be a good King to his people.

 

Fíli waited, biting his lip nervously until she seemed to come to a decision.

 

Sigrid beckoned him towards her desk, and he followed the path of shadows towards her. When Sigrid pulled out a chair beside hers and indicated for him to sit, he did so, marvelling at the stack of decaying books set out on the fresh table before them.

 

            "I found these when we were shifting the rubble from the old Hall.” She explained, tracing the leather bindings. “One day as we searched I pulled back a loose stone in the ground and found them hidden and protected from the fire. There was nothing left of the building; the wood and paper had burned and the ashes had blown away…but not these.” She pulled a volume towards her and delicately opened it to reveal faded writing and complicated sketching. “You see, I’d been helping to make a record of those days; to write down the stories of those we lost in the fires and in the battle so that they would never be forgotten. But I always wondered why somebody would have hidden these away, and it wasn't until I was taking the records of a descendant of Old Dale that I finally learnt the story."

 

Fíli sat transfixed by her words and the way her voice wavered in their telling.

 

            "His name was Dryw, and all his life he had been the Keeper of the Chronicles of Dale, an apprentice to his father before him. But on the day the dragon came, Dryw's wife had dragged him away from the Hall.” A faint melancholy smile tugged at the corner of Sigrid’s lips. “She wanted him to come to market with him and spend a day in the sun with living people instead of his books. So at least they were close enough to the gates when the fires began." Sigrid shuddered, and Fíli imagined that her own memory of flames flickered behind her eyes. “But when they reached the gate Dryw looked back into the inferno… and let go of his wife's hand. He told her to run, and that he would follow; he needed to ensure that he had done his duty as the Keeper of the Chronicles. She begged him not to, pleaded for him to come with her; told him that he was more important than his books. But all his life Dryw had believed that the books he kept were the beating heart of his city. He believed that the Chronicles would be a guide for the future; the map from which Kings would plot the great course of our world. So he went back… and he never returned.”

 

Her voice trembled and Fíli's hand twitched instinctively to reach out and squeeze hers, but he restrained himself, feeling that it would be improper.

 

            “And Dryw was right; in these books I have found everything that our ancestors knew about how to summon the best produce from the land, and the secrets of the tiny threads of water that flow beneath the earth. That’s how we have managed to make do with the little land we have."

 

Sigrid looked up at Fíli.

 

            "One man believed in the future of Dale even as it was falling to ash upon the ground. So he sacrificed everything for that vision." She jabbed a finger at one of the leather-bound volumes. "He would have made a great King.”

 

Fíli said nothing. Instead, he stood abruptly, pacing along the empty bookcases with his hands to his head.

 

 _All his life, all his lessons, all his training had taught him to fulfil an image of the past; to restore and rebuild what had been lost. Nobody had spoken about creating. Nobody had talked about building a new. Nobody, except her._ It suddenly dawned on Fíli that he did not know how to be the kind of king that Sigrid had just described.

 

            He reached the end of the row and span back around, striding back to where Sigrid sat watching him with concern. “Fíli, is it something I said?”

 

            "How do you do it?" He pleaded of her.

 

            "Do what?"

 

            “Do that!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the books. “You have more passion for your people, and more conviction than I have… in my entire being!” He ran a hand through his tangled hair.

 

            “Fíli,” She almost laughed incredulously. “Look at you! _This_ is what passion feels like; to want the best for your people and to do everything in your power to provide for them. The Fíli I saw during that meeting might have cared more for his pride than for his responsibility to his people,” Sigrid said sternly. “But he wasn’t the only one nor will he be the last.”

 

            His gaze fell to the old volumes. "What if I can't do it?” he asked quietly. “What if I can't be the King they deserve?"

 

            She reached out, placing a gentle hand over his. "Everyone had doubts, I know I do. I’m terrified that I can’t be enough; not a good enough daughter, not a good enough sister… not a good enough Princess.” She swallowed. “But my Da told me that if one man offers what he has, no matter how small, then somebody else can have more than they started with.”

 

He looked down at her hand on his, her delicate fingers calloused but gentle upon his own. He had never spoken the words aloud before, not even to Kíli.

 

Somewhere in the distance a bell tolled to announce the reconvening of the Council. Sigrid withdrew her hand, and Fíli’s fingers felt oddly cold without them.

 

            "We should go." Sigrid announced, placing her quill between the pages of the open book and closing it with a look of regret.

 

            Fíli blinked, shaking himself mentally before remembering his manners. He stood and held out his elbow to her. "May I escort you, Lady Sigrid?"

 

            She raised an eyebrow. “How is it that yesterday you were shouting that the Mirkwood Prince was a ‘beardless tree-swiving pixie’, and yet today you are the very model of decorum?” she took his arm.

 

            He grinned and shrugged. “A talent. Although you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen my mother at Council with my uncle. They might seem like they’re in agreement, but if words were swords then my mother could put the fiercest warrior to shame.” He considered for a moment. “Come to think of it, I remember the fear in Dwalin’s eyes when Thorin told my mother that she couldn’t come on our quest.”

 

Sigrid laughed at the thought of the burly dwarven warrior afraid of Fíli’s mother. It was loud and unrestrained, and it came from that place people too often buried away. Fíli found that he rather liked the sound.

 

            “I would like to hear those stories sometime.” She said as they walked between the shadows towards the double doors.

 

            Fíli nodded. "Aye, but we will need more time that this for such tales.” He glanced sideways at her.  “Perhaps for now we can discuss your encouraging of my brother's death wish?"

 

            Sigrid grinned as they stepped together through the double doors. "Yes, let's discuss how I had to spend my morning threatening _and_ consoling a mildly traumatised member of my father's guard because he found your brother sleeping half naked in the arms of an Elf." 

 

Fíli groaned and shook his head as they made their way towards the Council Hall.    

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line "You have more passion for your people, and more conviction than I have… in my entire being!" comes from my favourite movie Ever After.  
> Kudos to you if you spotted it, you have great taste :)


	5. Apples

 

 

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Wrap My Mind Around You"** \- Trent Dabbs_

_Directionless, how'd i get into this,_   
_I hear the nighttime talk,_   
_You're my ever after thought,_   
_I want to sleep i just want to sleep._

_I can't wrap my mind around you,_   
_I can't wrap my mind around you,_   
_It's weighing me down it's wearing me out,_   
_Cause I can't wrap my mind around you._

 

* * *

 

 

They had all been seated at the grand table in deep discussion for near on four hours when suddenly a Messenger burst into the Council Hall. A cacophony of shouting swelled and was again muffled as the doors swung open and shut behind the flustered man.

 

Bard stood swiftly as the ruddy-faced Messenger hurried towards him.

 

            "My Lord, there has been an...an incident." The messenger looked around nervously at the many eyes upon him.

 

Sigrid stood up.

 

            "For goodness sakes, Arthur, what is the matter?" Bard urged the man.

            

            Arthur swallowed. "It's the Boars… for the feast. Three got loose as the farmer was taking them to the butcher."

 

There was a muttering and some stifled smirking around the table.

 

            "Can this not wait? These are important matters." Thranduil called loudly.

 

            Bard turned his shoulder away from the table. "Surely this can be resolved without my intervention?" he asked in a hushed voice.

 

            "Well the farmer wanted to set the dogs to round them up, but the butcher said that would bruise their meat. Someone suggested shooting the beasts right then and there, but that was no better, and then the butcher threatened to mince anyone who damaged his work. Then they got to debating who was at fault, and all the while the Boars made it to the market and started at the fruit carts." The messenger drew a deep breath, looking tremulously at his King. "I think they caught the Boars but the market is in a state."

 

Bard sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking from the awaiting table towards the window.

 

            Sigrid stepped up to her father and placed a hand on his arm. “I'll see to it, Da. Don’t worry."

 

            Bard hesitated for a moment but knew it was no use; somebody had to go. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then turned back to the table. “I apologise for the interruption. My daughter will attend to this matter in my stead."

 

            Balin waved the apology away. "Nay, you need not apologise for running your kingdom, Bard. And I dare say that it would be to the detriment of all if the final feast was without its meat.”

 

The dwarves and a few of the men nodded in agreement at those words.

 

            Fíli got swiftly to his feet. “And Erebor will offer its assistance to see that the matter is dealt with at speed.”

 

Thorin raised his eyebrows, taken aback and perhaps guessing that the diplomatic suggestion was more of an excuse to escape the bore of the meeting.

 

             “Our guard will be doing nothing of importance,” Fili explained. “I can organise them to lend a hand.”

 

            "More hands will certainly make light work of the task." Sigrid agreed.

 

            Thorin considered for a moment and then nodded. “Let it be known that Erebor will always offer its assistance when Dale is in need.”

 

            Fili knew that Thranduil read the veiled slander because as he turned to exit the chamber he distinctly heard Thranduil mutter; “Yes, Erebor will proffer its hand when the matter is merely three Boars and a few overturned carts-” but the doors closed behind them before he heard the rest.

 

Upon stepping out into the street it became apparent that it was not _merely a few overturned carts_.

 

It appeared as if a great hurricane had come through the market, such was the destruction and scattering of debris. Carts had indeed been overturned and their contents spilt upon the ground. Apples had rolled across the square and followed the gentle slope down the side streets, pumpkins had been trampled and their contents stomped into the stone, and green leafy vegetables lay squashed and wilted upon the ground. All around them people were looking about at the destruction as if unsure of where to begin.

 

            Fíli let out a low whistle. “Three Boars did all of this?”

 

            “Their final stand.” Sigrid nodded sombrely as she surveyed the scene.

 

            “I guess we can’t really blame them. Speaking from experience, the knowledge that you’re about to be eaten isn’t all that comforting.”

 

Sigrid’s brows knitted together.

 

            “On our journey to the Mountain, though a series of…unfortunate events, we were almost eaten by Trolls.” He explained with a shrug.

 

            Sigrid turned to him, her eyes wide. “How did you get out of that?”

 

            “Stealth, speed, and quick thinking.” He boasted, puffing out his chest.

 

            A slight grin curled Sigrid’s lips. “But, you were able to get by with just two out of three?” she teased, her eyes glinting.

 

            “Lady Sigrid!” Fili tried to look offended but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

 

            “Weren’t you supposed to be fetching your Guard to help us clean up this mess?” the messenger interjected dourly.

 

 

Fíli returned soon after with those of the Guard who had accompanied them to Erebor. He had been right; they certainly weren’t doing anything of importance.  He had found them sitting in the tavern throwing axes at a target on the wall that had clearly been intended for darts. The innkeeper was rather glad to see them called away.

 

Looking about the square, Fili couldn’t see Sigrid anymore, but several of the men of Dale were attempting to shift a large wooden cart with little success. The heavy cart groaned as they heaved, but it refused to budge. Rolling back his sleeves Fíli strode towards them and although the Guard were hesitant at first, they followed after their Prince.

 

The men stared as the dwarves came forwards, but readily accepted the assistance without a word.

 

They worked together, putting each of the overturned carts to rights while all about them the people worked to gather the fallen produce, slowly but surely restoring the marketplace.

 

As the last cart teetered on a wheel before coming to stand upright the dwarves and men slumped against its side, gasping for breath and wiping sweat from their brows.

 

            "Aye, that'll do it, lads." One of the men said, slapping another on the back. "What do you say to a restorative pint?"

 

            “Or two!” another called.

 

There was a good deal of appreciative nodding and cheers as they pulled themselves to their feet and began making their way to the tavern.

 

The dwarves were gathering themselves when the man who had spoken called back.

 

            "Aren't you lot coming?"

 

All the men had stopped, looking back at the dwarves.

 

The dwarves looked at one another, as if uncertain of what to do.

 

Fíli watched in silence, waiting.

 

            Then someone stepped forwards; a menacing dwarf with a great black beard and impressive inking adorning his muscular arms. "Last one to down the drink fills the other’s tankard?" he said gruffly.

 

            The man grinned. “Then I hope you lot brought plenty of that gold with you!”

 

            The guard snorted. "Never let it be said that any Man of Dale can outdrink a Dwarf of Erebor!”

 

            There was a chorus of cheers from all and many shouts of “Lead the way!"

 

They all set off merrily towards the tavern.

 

 

Fíli hung back, craning his head to spot Sigrid. Although it had gotten late in the day, she would surely want to re-join the remainder of the Council. Then he spied her, her back turned towards him as she knelt beside a basket gathering fruit.

 

He walked towards her, but as he got closer he was suddenly aware of a fluttering in his stomach as if he were _nervous_ to talk to her. But that was absurd; they had spoken many times, in fact, they had spoken many times that very day. Why did he now have the sensation that he was standing upon the precipice of a cliff? Trying to ignore the feeling, he continued forwards.

     

      “The carts are righted and some of your men have taken the Guard to the tavern.”

            

            Sigrid looked up at him. “So we’ve lost them all until tomorrow?” She asked with a grin, a loose strand of her honey blonde hair falling into her eyes.

 

            His stomach twisted again. “Longer than that, I suspect.” He admitted.

 

            Sigrid sighed. “Oh well, at least they are getting along.” She put another bruised apple in the basket and then stood up, dusting down her hands. “Would you mind helping me to carry a basket down to the bakery? The baker’s wife has agreed to preserve them for the farmer to sell instead.”

 

            He bowed. “As you wish.

 

 _Apples._ Fili’s nose wrinkled at the sticky sweet scent as he picked up the basket. Ever since their journey in the barrels the very insinuation of apples was enough to make him retch.

         

            Sigrid picked up another basket and balanced it on her hip. “The bakery is this way.” She gestured for him to follow as she led the way.

 

Fili focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not spilling the basket, trying to ignore the way the bruised apples seemed to permeate the air with their syrupy sweetness.

 

            “So, clarify something up for me.” Sigrid called over her shoulder as they made their way down a side street. “Nobody apart from you, me, one of the guard, and Tauriel and Kíli themselves know about their relationship?”

 

            “No.” It was all he could manage without breathing in too much.

 

            “Why not? Tauriel no longer lives in Mirkwood, Thranduil banished her, so it’s not as if he has any authority over her.”

 

            The smell really was starting to overpower him and he was in imminent danger of throwing up. “Still an Elf.” He said through gritted teeth.

 

            Sigrid lead him through the open door of the empty bakery. “That’s a pathetic reason.” She pronounced, walking towards a shelf and setting her basket down. “They can’t keep carrying on like this forever; they will get caught and next time it won’t be by me.” She turned around to face him. “The fact that they love each other should be the only thing that matters. And I think that if anyone has a problem with them they should keep their opinions to themselves.” She rounded on him with blazing eyes, but on catching sight of his face she stopped. “Are you alright, Fíli?”

 

Fíli wasn’t alright. He could feel the bile rising, his stomach churning.

 

He dropped the basket of apples and bolted for a window, throwing it open and drawing in great gasps of fresh air and swallowing deeply. Closing his eyes as the sickly sweet smell was expelled from his lungs.

 

            He felt a hand at his back and then Sigrid was pushing a cup of water into his hands. “Are you alright?” She repeated, anxiously.

 

            He nodded, eyes still closed. “Apples.” He explained. “Those barrels that your father found us in were used to hold cider, and we spent a while hurtling along that river.” He grimaced, pulling slowly away from the window and opening his eyes.

 

            Sigrid was looking at him incredulously. “Why on earth did you agree to carry them if you knew they would make you feel sick?”

 

            “Because you asked me to.” He replied.

 

            Sigrid’s mouth fell slightly open. “Fíli…” She began, but suddenly a movement in the shadows caught his eye.

 

In a split second he realised what it was, as pearl white tusks caught the light and a boar charged out from under the tablecloth.

 

            “Look out!” he cried, launching forwards and dropping the cup of water as he dived towards Sigrid. He knocked her out of the way as the boar let out a great bellow and made to bury its tusks in her legs.

 

They crashed to the hard ground, Fíli’s dropped basket of apples flying everywhere as the boar narrowly missed them and charged instead through the open door with a last screeching cry.

 

            Sigrid was breathing hard. “How on earth did they miss one?” She exclaimed.

 

            “I guess he really doesn’t want to get eaten.” Fili huffed, having had the breath knocked out of him by the fall.

 

He was suddenly very aware how close they were, and that his hand was still around her waist where he had grabbed it as he flung them out of the boar’s path.

He hastily withdrew it and helped her to her feet before focusing on brushing the dust from his clothes, purposefully not looking at her.

 

Sigrid too was dusting herself off, and watching Fíli out of the corner of her eyes. She could still feel the firm grip of his hands on her waist, and a heat danced wildly across her skin that had her stomach twisting in knots, but she liked this feeling.

 

            “Thank you.” She said quietly.

            

            “It was nothing.” He shrugged, still avoiding her eyes.

            

            “You’re making a bit of a habit of saving me.”

            

            “Anyone would have done the same.”

 

There was silence.

 

            Sigrid didn’t know what to say, so instead she bent down and picked up a fallen apple from the ground and held it out to him. “Prince Fili, please accept this apple as a token of my gratitude.”

 

            Fíli finally looked up and met her eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Not in a million years.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Question:
> 
> I like to write each chapter to a different song, this got me thinking; Kiliel has it's own 'theme song', what would a Figrid 'theme song' sound like?
> 
> Would it take different elements of certain soundtrack songs (eg. Durin's folk, Bard: a man of Laketown), or would it be its own thing?
> 
> What do you guys think?


	6. Stories

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Everything Has Changed"** \- Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran_

_All I knew this morning when I woke_  
Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before.  
And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago  
Is green eyes and freckles and your smile  
In the back of my mind making me feel like  
  
I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

 

* * *

 

The meeting on the third day went as well as could be expected. This time there was no yelling or threats, just discussion. It seemed to Fíli that Sigrid's words had indeed had an effect on the Kings and their Councillors. But Sigrid wasn't at the council meeting today, her chair was instead filled by her brother, and for some reason this bothered Fíli. But he did make an effort to listen to most of the talks about levying trade prices, as tedious as they were.

 

Fíli was one of the first on his feet when the afternoon bell chimed to end the assembly, but then remembered that he was obliged to linger and observe the conventions of their host kingdom.

 

So Fíli shook hands with the councillors of Dale, even shaking hands with the Elf prince, all the while covertly attempting to crush each other’s fingers. Sigrid might have been right about putting the past behind them, but the Elf’s ongoing habit of irritating him rendered this matter very much in the realm of the present and therefore acceptable, or so Fili told himself.

 

His foot tapped impatiently on the ground as they all shuffled past.

           

             "Do you have someplace better to be?" Thorin muttered under his breath.

 

            "Just someone I want to see." Fíli replied through his teeth, nodding and smiling to the councillors.

 

Thorin says nothing, and again Fili got the impression that his uncle was disappointed in him.

 

When at last all hands had been shaken, or crushed, Fíli made his way from the Chambers. Halfway down the corridor it occurred to him that he could have saved himself the bother and simply asked Bard where Sigrid was, but that would mean that he wouldn’t see for himself.

 

But he almost wished that he had when he stepped through the double doors to the Reading Hall only to be met with a cacophony of high-pitched voices…children's voices. There are around fifteen young boys and girls gathered about the wooden tables, and all of them fell silent, looking up when he walked in. Fili had the sudden sensation that he was being pierced by fifteen pairs of sharp little arrows.

 

            Fili swallowed. "Um... Do you know where Si-, where Lady Sigrid is?" He asked them.

 

At first, they don't say anything. Fifteen pairs of wide eyes just stared at him, until a small girl with a scar across her cheek squared her tiny shoulder and plucked up the courage.

 

            "Who are you?" She demanded of him.

 

And then it was as if a floodgate had opened.

 

            "Are you from Erebor?" another piped up.

 

            “Were you one of the Dwarves that our King Bard helped?”

 

            "Do you sleep on a bed of gold?"

 

            "How come you've got all them braids in your hair?"

 

            Fíli blinked. "Err…"

 

To his intense relief, Sigrid came from around a corner of a bookshelf. She looked somewhat flustered, with a pile of books in her arms and errant wisps of hair hanging about her face.

 

            She froze when she saw him. "Fíli? What are you doing here?"

 

            "I..." He felt suddenly quite hot under his collar, and was acutely aware of all the pairs of eyes trained on him. "I just wanted to see why you weren't at the meeting today." He finished, realising now how silly it seemed.

 

            Sigrid looked at him for a moment and then smiled, turning to deposit the books into the eagerly waiting hands of the children. "I did so want to be there." She said, turning back to him. "But I've been rather busy."

 

            "I can see that."

 

            A small boy stepped up to Sigrid and tugged at her sleeve, looking tentatively at Fíli. "Princess Sigrid, who is he?"

 

             Sigrid looked affectionately down at the boy. "That's Prince Fíli of Erebor." When the boy still looked cautious, Sigrid added; "He's a friend of mine."

 

Fili felt the flush creep further up his neck that most definitely had no business doing so.

 

            Sigrid straightened up and stepped towards him, away from the children. "I would have been at the meeting today, but Alice, who normally looks after them took ill this morning and there wasn’t anyone else.” she explained.

 

            He nodded “Where did they all come from, the children?” He asked curiously.

 

            Sigrid looked back over her shoulder at them as they argued over who got what book. “Some of them are Orphans, others have just fallen on hard times. The idea was to try and make it easier on their families and the people who took them in by helping them with things like reading and their letters.” Sigrid turned back to him. “Actually, your timing couldn't have been better." She whispered. "I have to pass on a message to Da before he goes to Laketown, but I can't leave the children alone. Would you be able to stay with them? I'll only be a moment."

 

            "Are you sure you want me to watch over them?" He asked doubtfully.

 

            Sigrid waved a hand airily. "With you watching over them, what's the worst that could happen?"

 

 _Hungry Mountain Trolls._ Fíli thought to himself, remembering the last time he had entrusted to guard something. But it occurred to him that if Sigrid was placing her trust in him, he probably shouldn't mention that particular incidence.

 

So he sighed inwardly and agreed.

 

            Sigrid looked relieved. "Thank you, Fíli. She clasped his hands in hers. "I am in your debt, again.” Then she let go and turned back to the children, but his hands still tingled from her touch.

 

When Sigrid conveyed the plan to the children they looked as dubious as Fíli felt. She felt terribly guilty for putting him in such a fix, but she truly had no other option if her Da was to revive the message before the late afternoon wagon departed for Laketown.

 

As she stepped out the Reading Hall doors she cast a look back. Fíli stood at a considerable distance from the children like a sentinel, but watched them as if it was his sworn duty. They would be safe, Sigrid had never doubted that, but comfortable was another matter altogether.

 

 

So when she returned some time later, the sight that greeted her caused her to stop in her tracks. Far from standing at the edge of the room, Fíli now sat on the floor of the Reading Hall, his legs crossed as he pointed to a panel of shadows upon the ground. Meanwhile, all around him were scattered the children, each one listening rapturously as he told them a story.

 

They were so absorbed in the tale that they didn't even look up as the doors closed behind her, but Fíli did. He grinned a little smugly at the look of shock that must have appeared on her face, but didn't pause in the telling of his story, seeming to bring the likeness of a river to life with his hands as he spoke.

 

Sigrid moved quietly to sit with them and one or two of the children looking up as she too crossed her legs upon the floor.

 

As his recount of the Forest River came to a close, Fíli watched the children nearest to Sigrid shuffle instinctively closer to her, and the way her fingers would linger on their arms as she drew them to her. These children were loved because Dale had made a place for them… she had made a place for them.

 

            A lad with raven black hair was looking at Fíli with wide eyes. “Could you tell us the story of how Thorin Oakenshield fought the Pale Orc the first time?” he asked.

 

The others nodded in fervent ascent.

 

Fíli hesitated. He knew the story well; his mother’s voice as she recounted it had lulled him to sleep many a night as a youngster, filling his dreams with visions of bravery and heroism, and also with terrible sadness. His uncle, grandfather, great-grandfather, and countless others had been slaughtered in the Battle of Azanulbizar, when Thorin had first faced down Azog.

 

            Sigrid watched his face and saw the swell of emotion that rose behind the blue of his eyes. “Another time, Aeron.” She advised gently. “Prince Fíli has had a long day.”

 

Later, he would think how strange it was that one look could convey so much. But when Sigrid’s eyes met his he saw something there that made clear his throat.

 

            “It was a fierce battle,” he began. “Very fierce.”

 

Aeron’s flushed in pleasure and all around him the young boys sat up eagerly. But the shoulders of the young girls slumped in disappointment, the same way his would when he had to listen to the stories of the great Dwarven marriages.

 

            “But I need to go back further, if you will let me,” he said to the boy. “To the time when Princess Dís, daughter of King Thráin II and sister of Thorin and Frerin, defended her kingdom, and met her One.”

 

Sigrid bit back a smile as the girls sat up with a look of excitement, nodding for him to continue.

 

Aeron sighed, but nodded.

 

            “There was a foot soldier in the King’s Guard, Víli; a proud and strong dwarf, renowned for his gift at wielding not one sword but two. He had come of age in the Kingdom of Erebor and spent his life training for the day when he would be called upon to defend his King. But everything changed when Smaug came down from the North.” His fingers traced the winged figure silhouetted upon the ground. “As you know, Smug drove the Dwarves from their homes, so my people wandered the wilds for a time until they settled in the Blue Mountains, far to the West. But always they thought of reclaiming their home. They began with the Misty Mountains, purging the Orc and Goblin filth from their ancient cities until all that was left was Moria; the greatest of all Dwarven homes.”

 

Fíli paused, almost hypnotised by the eager anticipation in their eyes. Sigrid sat with her hands wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees and a far off look in her blue-grey eyes.

 

            “In the years since the sacking, Víli had proven himself to his King in exile, but when the order came to march upon Moria he was not called upon.”

 

There was a shocked murmur from the children.

 

            Fíli nodded. “You can imagine his disappointment when he was ordered to remain behind and protect their kin in the Blue Mountains.”

 

            “I would have gone anyway!” Aeron called. Many of the other children voiced their agreement.

 

            “And I imagine he thought so too.” Fíli agreed. “But he was loyal to his King, and his King had given him a noble task. But nobody realised that Víli was not the only one who opposed being left behind.”

 

            Sigrid grinned knowingly and he met her eyes with a conspiratorial wink. “Who do you imagine ran away to follow the army and join her family in battle?” he asked the children.

 

            “Princess Dís!” they cried in delight.

 

Sigrid laughed.

 

            “You are right!” Fíli chuckled. “Princess Dís would not be left behind while her family marched into battle, and so in the middle of the night after the troops had departed, she stole away in disguise.”

 

            “Did she catch up with them?” The girl with the scar above her eye asked.

 

            “She might have,” Fíli considered. “But Víli realised what she had done and came after her.”

 

The children groaned.

 

            “Well, he soon discovered that catching up with the Princess was one matter, but convincing her to return was another. She refused to listen to him, no matter how hard he pleaded. She was headstrong, even for a dwarf, and more so than either of her brothers, which is saying something." He added.

 

Sigrid raised her eyebrows in amused disbelief.

 

            "It's true!" Fíli insisted, catching the look. "She’s the only person who can make Thorin do something that he doesn’t want to do."

 

            "But what did Víli do?" One of the children interjected.

 

            Fíli turned his attention back to them. “Well, he had tried to reason with her and that had failed, and he knew that he had _no_ hope of overpowering her. So it seemed to Víli that there was only one option; he would have to make a deal with her. ‘If you go, then I go with you.’ He decreed. The Princess scoffed. ‘You can’t do that. Who will remain behind to protect our people?’ Víli folded his arms. ‘I’m afraid you give me no choice. I pledged to protect the future of our people; that includes you’. In her heart Dís knew that her people could not be abandoned, yet it broke her spirit to not go to the aid of her family. So Víli proposed a compromise; he pledged to go in her place if she vowed to go back in his, that way each would defend the honour of the other.”

 

            “But Víli might die!” Aeron cried.

 

            “And that was what Dís said,” Fíli agreed. “‘How can I ask you to go in my place when you might not come back?’ she asked him. So Víli drew himself up, proud and sure, and made another pledge; that he would return to her. So like all Dwarf pledges, they cast it in stone. Dís picked up a rock from the creek bed and engraved it with their promise, and Víli carried it with him into battle.”

 

The young girls wore wistful expressions on their faces and the boys looked as if they were envisioning themselves as Víli. He imagined that he had once worn the same expression while listening to the tale.

 

Fíli swallowed. He had come to the part of the story he himself had not properly learnt until he was older. How Víli had reached the battle after Thrór had fallen, how the numbers of the dwarves seemed few, and how hope seemed lost...

 

But Sigrid’s eyes blazed before him and held the darkness of his own memories at bay.

 

So he told the children the story of how the Dwarf Prince fought off the Defiler using an oaken branch as a shield. How the young soldier, Víli, fought alongside the heir, and how they slew many Orcs together.

 

            “But did he return to Dís?” Aeron pressed, seeming to have forgotten his previous aversion to the story.

 

            Fíli suppressed a smile. “Yes he did. He returned to her and gave her back the stone, and it wasn’t long after that when they began courting.”

 

A bell chimed somewhere in the distance and it seemed that the story had held the children in a trance. They blinked as if they were stepping into bright sunlight.

 

            “Do we have to go?” The little girl moaned.

 

            "Well if you don't go you'll all miss out on supper." Sigrid reminded them.

 

At that, the children began to scramble to their feet. Nothing, not even a story, could detain them from food.

 

Sigrid watched as some clung to Fíli's arms like he was a tree, shrieking and giggling as he lifted them until the tips of their toes barely brushed the ground. She wondered where he had been hiding; the Fíli who laughed, the Fíli whose eyes shone with life, the Fíli who got lost in a story... the Fíli who made her heart skip a beat each time he looked at her.

 

Flustered, she stood and began to shepherd the children towards the door, until she realised that Fíli wasn't following them.

 

            She turned back. "Are you coming?"

 

            He shook his head. "I think I'm going to stay here for a bit. Do you mind if I look over those old chronicles?”

 

            She smiled, a little confused. “Not at all, but do you mind if I ask why?"

 

The children were halfway out the door and Sigrid knew she had to follow them.

 

            Fíli considered, as if he needed to think for a moment before he tried to explain it himself. "Because, I think I have an idea for how we build a future for our Kingdoms."

 

He didn’t intend the statement to sound arrogant, if anything he felt incredibly uncertain, but for the first time in a long time he was also full of hope. That was the quiet victory that Sigrid glimpsed as the doors to the Reading Hall closed, and it kept a smile on her lips for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

 **BONUS** \- In response to a request, here is a very quick idea of how Kili and Tauriel ended up "partially" clothed.

 

Tauriel paced the length of the parapet, her quick eyes scanning the deserted fallow plains that lay between Dale and the Lake. Then, in the still silence of the night she heard heavy footfalls making their way up the stairs to where she stood. She twisted, putting an arrow to her bow and levelling it just as the figure reached the top of the tower.

 

            When Kíli assailed the last of the steps only to find himself at the wrong end of an arrow, he stopped short, raising his hands in surrender. "Is this how you greet me after being parted for so long?" He asked of Tauriel, a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 

            "No," Tauriel shrugged, not lowering her weapon. "But it is how I will greet the one who made me wait so long." She loosened the tension in the bow.

            

            Kíli stepped forwards, reaching up to press his open palm against the point of the arrow. "Then it would be unwise to make my lady wait any longer."

 

            "Very unwise indeed." Tauriel agreed, letting him gently push the weapon aside, and then there was nothing between them.

 

            "I am still on duty." She murmured against his lips as they hungrily chased hers.

 

            Kíli pulled his head back with a growl of frustration. "One day I will kiss you for everyone to see." He vowed. "I promise."

 

Tauriel bit her lip. She had not pushed him to confront his uncle just yet, knowing that Kili loved his family and wanted their support. She herself also keen not to jeopardise the position she had worked hard to obtain in Dale, or the new home she had found.

 

            "What we have until then is still good." She insisted, her hand at his neck.

 

            He met her eyes and a devastatingly reckless smile played at his lips. "Only good?" He teased.

 

            "Well..." Her hands moved from his neck down to the hem of his shirt.

 

            Sensing her intentions, Kíli helped her eagerly in its removal. "Better?" He laughed as her delicate fingers ghosted across his barrelled chest.

 

            "Much better." She agreed, and captured his mouth again in hers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by a scene in Melina Marchetta's Finikin of the Rock. Go ahead and read it.


	7. Queen

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Never Say Never"** \- The Fray _

_Picture, you're the queen of everything_   
_As far as the eye can see_   
_Under your command_   
_I will be your guardian_   
_When all is crumbling_   
_I steady your hand_

 

 

* * *

 

On the morning of the third day Fíli woke slowly, his mind unwilling to leave his dreams behind. It had been good dream, he mused, closing his eyes into the pillow as he sleepily trying to recall what it had been that made him wake with a smile. But attempting to remember the dream was like trying to cup water in his hands; each second it trickled through his fingers until he had to acknowledge that he was awake and his dream had ended.

 

Reluctantly, Fíli threw back the blankets and furs, standing slowly and stretching his stiff arms above his head as a yawn expanded in his chest. 

 

Still in his loose nightshirt and pants, he wandered towards his window and threw it open, letting the sunlight hit him full in the face. Fíli closed his eyes and drank it in, feeling the warmth spread across his skin like a caress. It was a glorious day, the kind of day when the birds seemed to sing louder and the sky seemed somehow bluer as it stretched above Dale and disappeared behind Erebor in the distance.

 

He felt a sudden tingling down his spine as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his eyes snapped down towards the busy streets of Dale.  _How strange; he could have sworn he felt somebody watching him._ But the people of Dale did not glance up on their way to market, and Fíli concluded that he must have imagined it.

 

He turned from the window, intending to don his formal attire for that day's meeting when sudden shouting from the streets below brought him racing back.

 

The people of Dale had stopped and were craning their heads, turning to whisper to each other in alarm as they spotted a commotion making its way down the main street. From his higher vantage point Fíli had an unimpeded view, and what he saw made the bottom drop out of his stomach.

 

King Thranduil was striding down the streets of Dale accompanied by two of his guard who were dragging a figure behind them... A figure with raven black hair.

 

Fíli's heart missed a beat as it lurched into his throat.

 

 _Kíli_.

 

Before he knew what he was doing he was out the door and flying along the corridor, desperate to reach his brother. 

 

Panic clouded his mind. If Thranduil had caught Kíli with Tauriel... he might not have authority over Tauriel but that would not stop his anger. There was no doubt in his mind that Kíli would be severely punished, if not by Thranduil then by Thorin.

 

He ran down the steps of the guest house, losing his footing halfway down and nearly tumbling, but he did not care. All that mattered was Kíli.

 

Reaching the streets he pushed his way through the milling crowd who parted and whispered behind their hands. He was still in his night clothes; hardly the image of Dwarven royalty.

 

Thranduil stood in the centre of the Dale Square before the King's residence, and the raven-haired figure was thrown at his feet.

 

          "Bring me the King." Thranduil commanded menacingly.

 

Fíli was about to charge forwards when the raven-haired figure lifted his head. Intense relief flooded through him when he realised that it was not Kíli. The figure was a young boy. He had Kíli's unkempt hair but up close he was thinner and with a grime that coated his sallow skin. Then Fíli recognised the boy, he had seen him in the Reading Hall just yesterday; Aeron.

 

Someone in the crowd moved and Fíli guessed they had gone to fetch Bard. But despite the fact that it was not his brother shackled at the Elvenking’s feet, Fíli found that he could not move. There was a heart wrenching suffering in the young lad's lowered eyes that reached out to him, holding him in a trance.

 

Somebody pushed past his shoulder and he turned his head to see Sigrid striding into the square.

 

She wasn’t wearing any of the fine gowns Fíli had seen her in since arriving. She was dressed for the cold winds that blew over the Mountain and nipped around the outskirts of the raised Kingdom; a mud splattered cloak of midnight-blue was draped over her shoulders, and she wore thick fur boots not unlike his own. Her honey coloured hair was interwoven with purple wildflowers and braided back from her face, with a few errant wisps breaking free. But for all that she seemed a delicate country lass; her grey-blue eyes glinted with rage.

          

          Thranduil looked down his nose at her. "Where is your father, girl?" He demanded.

 

Sigrid ignored him and bent down to pull the young lad to his feet. She whispered something to him and he nodded, cowering away from Thranduil.

 

At last, Sigrid turned her eyes upon the Elvenking, and Fíli imagined that anyone with less pride would have cowered in their wake. She made to step towards Thranduil but his guard's hands moved swiftly to their swords.

 

Fíli heard a gasp from beside him and his eyes flickered momentarily to see Tilda, Sigrid's younger sister, biting her lip in terror as her sister faced down the king. She wore the same delicate purple wildflowers braided in her hair and Fíli guessed that the sisters must have been out to visit the farmlands earlier that morning.

 

          Sigrid seemed unfazed by the guards. "What do you mean by shackling a citizen of Dale while you are our guest?" She demanded, her voice quivering.

 

          "My guard shackled the _thief_ who tried to steal from me because your guard are utterly incompetent." Thranduil snapped. "Now, bring me your father."

          

          Sigrid drew herself up.  "My father is gone on business in Laketown. Your dealings will be with me."

         

           "You?"

          

          "Me." Sigrid repeated. "And we can start by unshackling Aeron here."

 

          "That boy is a thief."

         

          "Please Sigrid,” Aeron looked beseechingly at her. “I wasn't going to steal nothing important. I just needed somethin’ to sell."

 

Thranduil snorted in derisive triumph as Sigrid gently hushed the boy.

          

          Sigrid glared at Thranduil. " _Aeron_  may be a thief but if he is then it is not his fault."

 

          The Elvenking's lips curled "There are no thieves in my kingdom, girl. _My_ people respect the law of their King."

 

Sigrid’s glare was murderous and Thranduil’s guards tightened their grips on their swords.

 

Fíli heard a whimper beside him and he could see the fear in Tilda's young eyes.

     

          "King Thranduil." He called out coolly, his voice echoing across the square. Sigrid and Thranduil’s heads snapped towards him. "Suppose King Bard returned to find your guard threatening his daughter with swords on his doorstep." He stepped forwards. "It would be a shame to see this alliance come to an end so soon." He said, calmly coming to stand beside Sigrid.

 

He met Sigrid's questioning eyes with quick reassurance before turning his attention to the bristling Elvenking.

 

          "During my life in exile, on the _rare_ occasion that an offence was caused, it was the authority of the ruler of the host kingdom to pass judgement." He nodded towards Sigrid. "We are guests of her Kingdom and the Lady Sigrid has the authority to pass this judgement in her father's absence."

 

Thranduil was silent for a moment as he glared at Fíli. But then he rounded on Sigrid expectantly.

 

          Sigrid took a deep breath as she considered Aeron for a moment before turning back to Thranduil and lifting her chin. "Aeron will come to the Reading Hall with me each morning and act as an apprentice in the transcriptions of the ancient texts of Dale." She pronounced loudly and clearly.

 

There was an approving mutter from the crowd, but Thranduil called above them.

          

          "A thief attempts to steal from a visiting King, an ally, and you would punish him by making him read and write. I demand that you throw him in prison or let me administer justice myself."

          

          "I will not punish him for being poor." Sigrid retorted, placing a kind hand on the boy's shoulder." Aeron has a good heart and a decent mind, but when his father was killed his family lost their means of trade Aeron has had to steal to feed his mother and sisters. And much to my sorrow he has not been the only one who has struggled to find their place in this new world of ours.” She squeezed the boy’s hand in hers. “What Aeron did is still wrong, but if you insist on punishment instead of offering help, then you will have condemned him to a life of the very crime which you seek to eradicate." Her voice rang clear through the square and Fíli could have sworn that he could hear the hammers all the way from the forges of Erebor in the quiet that followed.

 

He looked at Sigrid in awe. There stood a daughter of Kings, and he knew then with utter certainty that one day she would be a Queen.

          

          "There you have it.” Fíli said pleasantly to Thranduil. “Now, if you would be so kind as to release Lady Sigrid’s new apprentice."

 

          Thranduil knew he was defeated when even the crowd glared at him. With a flick of his wrist he gestured to his guard to release the boy from his shackles. "Your father would have handled this better." He snarled at Sigrid, and then turned on his heel to stride back to his quarters, his guards following behind him.

 

There was a cheer of applause from the crowd and Tilda ran forwards to squeeze her sister's hand.

 

          "You were amazing!" Tilda gushed. "Did you see the way Thranduil couldn't even speak! You were way too clever for him, Sig!"

 

People moved to clasp Sigrid's hand as Fíli stepped up beside her.

 

          "Do you think my Da would have done differently?" She asked him, so softly that he almost didn’t catch it.

 

          "Perhaps, but yours would still have been the better judgement." He whispered back to her as Tilda continued to gush and the crowd surged towards her. "Thranduil might have called for a King, but today… he received a Queen.”

 

          Sigrid didn't turn to face him as there were still others calling her attentions, but he could see her cheeks turning pink and the smile that spread across her face. "Thank you." She whispered to him, dropping a hand to her side so that it hung beside his.

 

Fíli felt her hand brush against his, and without looking down he reached out a finger to meet hers. An intoxicating sensation bled through her touch and spread through him, a familiar warmth... just as he had felt in his dream that morning.

 

          "Prince Fíli,"

 

He started and looked to see Tilda's wide eyes upon him.

 

          "Why are you outside in your nightclothes?" the young girl asked.

 

He had to hurry back to his rooms after that. No doubt Thorin would not approve of his heir running around Dale in a state of undress, especially since Kíli was probably doing the same thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Sigrid's speech was inspired by Ever After and the quote from Thomas More's Utopia 
> 
> "“For if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this, but that you first make thieves and then punish them.”
> 
> Bravo if you picked it! If not... go watch the movie :)


	8. Training

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Back To You"** \- Twin Forks_

_Follow the signs right back to you_   
_Back to you, back to you_   
_I know they wind right back to you_   
_Back to you, back to you_   
_Time after time, I follow signs_   
_I know they wind right back to you_   
  


* * *

 

 

It was later that afternoon after the day’s council and Dwalin and Thorin were pacing around the lines of assembled men and dwarves. The elves had drawn the line of peaceful coexistence at joint combat training. The two commanders barked out instructions and corrections as they all prepared for the tournament that would be held the next day.

 

It was the event that Fíli was looking forward to most. Owing to the injuries he had sustained during the Battle of the Five Armies and the increasingly political nature of his role in Erebor, he simply hadn't had the occasion to duel. But now, at last, this would be his chance. 

 

 

           "Protect your wrist, Fíli."

 

           "Kíli, Move your feet."

 

           "If that axe was sharp you'd be standing on stumps by now, Bain."

 

Fíli fought hard for their approval. It reminded him of his younger days spent in the Blue Mountains, days when praise had been earned through a well-timed strike or the deftness with which he had taken up a second sword. But now Fíli felt the need to convince them all that he was worthy of defending their kingdoms, that he could be worthy of being a King…the King that _she_ believed he could be.

 

So he worked hard, not stopping to rest with the others or to share in a mug of ale, but looking eagerly about for his next opponent. He listened intently to any criticism and afterwards worked twice as hard to correct his mistakes. 

 

           "Your weapon is your blade but your shield is in here." Thorin thumped his chest as he paced along the lines. "What are you fighting to defend?"

 

_What was Fíli fighting to defend?_

 

His answer was simple, it always has been. He was fighting to defend those he loved; His family, his kin... and _her_. 

 

 

Sigrid had been overseeing the stocking of the healing tent for the tournament while the Guard laboured to erect stands and the healing tent. Tauriel worked amongst them, and it made Sigrid smile to see the men fumbling over themselves to ease her load. Some of them hadn’t been keen on the idea of an Elf amongst their ranks, but Tauriel had made them change their minds very quickly. Now they treated her as a sister, and Sigrid was certain that if they knew about her relationship with Kíli, he would be subjected to a thorough interrogation the next time he passed through the portcullis of Dale.

 

With her hair tied back from her face the sun beat down relentlessly upon Sigrid’s shoulders and the exposed back of her neck, leaving it encrusted with beads of perspiration. She missed the days when the heat had meant a trip to the shores of the Lake. So when the task was complete, Sigrid settled herself in the reprieve of the shaded stands, her head resting on her arms as she leant over the railing to observe the training session below.

 

A gentle swish of air beside her and a peripheral flash of crimson told Sigrid that Tauriel had taken up a seat beside her in the otherwise empty stand.

 

           "How come you're not down there with them?" Sigrid asked, her eyes tracking the fighters below.

 

           "Oh I’ll be in the tournament tomorrow.” Tauriel assured her. “Besides, I'm not sure my participation would be welcome. A swift defeat might damage a few egos." She smirked.

 

           Sigrid snorted, watching as Kíli, who had clearly noticed Tauriel's presence, twirled his sword unnecessarily. "A little taste of humility might be beneficial." Sigrid mused as Fíli blocked the flourishing attack with ease.

 

           "Perhaps," Tauriel considered. "But it would be _much_ less interesting to watch."

 

Kíli seethed, throwing his hair back from his face and launching himself at a grinning Fíli.

 

Sigrid wasn't going to lie to herself; Fíli was a pleasure to observe. Seeing him move about the pit was like watching a dance; a lethal convergence of raw power and skill, each strike precise and determined. He had shrugged off the heavy coat and furs he normally wore and stood in a thin tunic of rich maroon trimmed with earthy hues. Where perspiration had soaked through, the material clung to the prominent muscles across his chest and shoulders, and his sleeves were pushed back leaving his thick forearms bare. What it would be like to be wrapped in those arms…

 

           "Your brother is improving." Tauriel's voice cut through her thoughts.

 

           "Wha- oh, yes. Yes he is." Sigrid agreed hurriedly, feeling the heat across her neck spread to her cheeks. She was infinitely glad that Tauriel could not read the thought that she should absolutely _not_ be thinking.

 

Tauriel's lips twitched and Sigrid fixed her eyes firmly on the figure of Bain below.

 

 

           Kíli's practice sword was flung from his hand and it clattered across the stone ground. "I yield!" He puffed, doubling over and looking towards where Bofur had carried out another barrel of ale.

 

           Fíli stepped backwards from his advance, eyebrow arched in disappointment. "Are you yielding to me or to the drink, brother?"

 

           Kíli straightened up with a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "There is no shame in yielding to a refreshing drink." He scampered off towards the ale table… the table that was set up alongside the stands, above which sat Tauriel… and Sigrid.

 

Then Fíli heard a voice behind him.

 

           "I’ll spar with you."

 

He turned to see Bain, Sigrid's younger brother, holding his practice sword aloft. Fíli could not help but look the lad up and down. He had grown almost two heads since Laketown, and his build had begun to take on that of a man, with thick shoulders and muscular arms. But he still had the face of a boy.

 

           Detecting Fíli’s hesitation Bain puffed out his chest. "I already train with the Archers of Dale, and I’ll be of age next autumn."

 

           "It's not that, lad." Fíli glanced up to where Sigrid sat watching intently.

 

           Bain glanced up and then lent towards Fíli conspiratorially. "About five minutes ago your uncle yelled that I fight like a girl. The last time somewhat said that within earshot of Sigrid she had them sent to the stocks for a day while all the women of the kingdom threw compost at them. And yet today Sigrid didn't bat an eyelid. She didn’t even glare! So I don't think it's me that she’s been watching." He looked pointedly at Fíli.

 

           Fili understood then; this was no mere offer, it was a challenge. Sigrid’s brother suspected something and this was his way of protecting his older sister. Fíli understood completely. He lifted his practice swords. "Ready?"

 

           Bain stepped backwards and assumed a neutral stance. "Absolutely."

 

Then he launched forwards.

 

Their practice swords clashed and swung about again as Fíli blocked Bain's attack and then attempted to make use of the open space. But Bain saw what he was about to do and deftly twisted away to give himself time to defend the blow. 

 

They clashed again and again. Bain compensating for Fíli's strength by predicting his movement while Fíli played a game of cat and mouse, taunting Bain with an undefended flank only to then attack with the other hand. Their feet carrying them across the square as they deftly mimicked the other's footsteps. 

 

Many had stopped to watch the duel with interest, some passing around coins as they placed wagers on the outcome.

 

Then, Bain's feet faltered over an uneven stone, and Fíli knew that with one flick of his left hand Bain's sword would be on the ground. But in that split second as Bain tried to recover his footing, Fíli found that he couldn't do it. Bain was just like him; a Prince with everything to prove to his people and to his family. 

And in that split second of hesitation Bain recovered, his eyes widening as he registered Fili’s hesitation.  Then he dropped his sword and stepped back.

 

            “I yield.” He called out.

 

There was uproar from the small crowd who groaned in disappointment and annoyance.

 

Fili stared at Bain in shock but the boy met his eyes accusingly.

 

            “Why did you hesitate?” Bain hissed.

 

            “You would have done the same for me.” Fili muttered as Dwalin stomped towards them. He saw the look of curious understanding dawn on the lad’s face, but then Dwalin was upon them.

 

           "What are ya two playing at!" Dwalin growled. Fíli though that smoke might start billowing from his nose. "Which one of you two... beardless sissys yielded first?"

 

Bain and Fíli pointed in unison at each other.

 

           "There is no yielding in a battle." Thorin glowered. “Compassion has no place in the hand that wields the sword.”

 

Fíli met his uncle's eye.

 

           "Luckily for the pair of you, this was not battle." Thorin glared at them both. "Fíli," he looked at his nephew. "You need to work on letting your muscles do the thinking for you. Trust that your legs know where to go and you will be faster." 

 

Fíli nodded as Thorin turned to Bain.

 

           "I take it back, boy; you might have a warrior in you after all."

 

Bain puffed out his chest. 

 

           "But you’re gripping your sword too tight." Dwalin reprimanded. "Hold your sword like you'd want a woman holding your-'

 

Fíli hastily cleared his throat, indicating with his head to where Sigrid was glaring at them from the stands. He noted as he did that Tauriel and Kíli had disappeared.

 

           "Apologies, Lady Sigrid." Thorin called up to her.

 

           "If you could restrict your instructions for my brother to the battlefield I would be  _very_  grateful." She called back sourly.

 

Fíli and Bain snorted at the genuinely contrite expressions on Dwalin and Thorin's faces.

 

           "Reminds me a bit of your sister." Dwalin muttered to Thorin.

 

           Thorin looked up at the girl who was still glaring down at them. "Terrifying." He agreed under his breath.

 

           "Aye, but who wins the bet if they both forfeited?" Bofur called, walking over to join them at the centre of the pit.

 

           “Whoever dropped the sword forfeited.” Nori insisted, also coming over to them.

 

           “Nay! The forfeit was in the hesitation.”

 

           “You just want ta’ win the gold!”

 

They all bickered back and forth as Fíli slipped away.

 

He leapt up onto the table, climbing the railing of the stand and pulling himself up and propping both his arms upon the wooden beam. The sight of her robbed him of breath; the golden light dancing on her skin and in her eyes. But before he could open his mouth Sigrid opened hers.

 

           "Why did you hesitate?" She asked.

 

           He shrugged. "I didn't hesitate."

 

           "Yes, you did."

 

           "I did not."

 

           Her eyes narrowed. "You’re lying."

 

           "How can you tell?" He said, half indignantly and half amused.

 

           "Because when you lie you bite your lip and you start blushing." Sigrid sat backwards, a glint of victory in her eyes.

 

           "Only when I'm with you, my Lady." He countered boldly.

 

Fíli waited, holding his breath for her response and cursing his mouth for speaking his mind. _Perhaps he had been too forward? Perhaps she didn’t feel whatever it was that made him want to close the distance between their lips?_

 

The bickering continued below.

 

           "Thank you for what you did." Sigrid said into the quiet. "I know now that I was wrong about you the other day.”

 

            “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Fíli asked cautiously.

 

            “Good.”

 

A wide grin spread across his face and Sigrid’s heart fluttered to see such a sight.

 

           "Fíli, get down here now!" Thorin's voice called out from below.

 

Fíli sighed and pulled himself reluctantly away from her. But just as he was about to release the wooden railing he had a thought and turned back.  

      

           “Will you meet me later tonight, in the Reading Hall?” he asked in a whisper. “I need your help with understanding those chronicles.” His request was genuine; he truly did need her assistance. But he also wanted to see if maybe she too felt what he was beginning to understand.

 

           "Fíli!" Thorin sounded angry now, but Fili ignored him.

 

Sigrid looked at him intently, and he wondered what was going on behind those eyes, until she smiled and all he could think about was the urge to take her face gently in his hands. “As you wish.” She repeated his words from the other day back to him.

 

           “Fíli!”

 

As Fili leapt from the railing and back towards the ground he found that he was unable to keep the smile from his face.

 

 

Sigrid sat back in the stand. _This was dangerous. This was reckless. Nothing good could come of it._ She could tell herself that she had agreed to help him was because he had said his idea would benefit both of their kingdoms. She could tell herself that it was for her people. But she would be lying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, Thank you so very much for all the support you guys have given this fic! I know how easy it is to just click through a story and even though I have enjoyed it I just don't know what to put in a comment. But I've been trying to change my ways because I know from experience that even one word can give someone the feeling that they have accomplished something. So I appreciate really everyone who has gone out of their way to comment, leave kudos, subscribe ect. You all make me feel to lucky to be a part of a wonderful fandom.
> 
> Secondly, some of the dialogue from this chapter can be found in Melina Marchetta's 'Finikin of the Rock', and "As you wish" comes from 'The Princess Bride'.


	9. Question

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

_****"Heartbeats"** \- José González** _

_One night to be confused_   
_One night to speed up truth_   
_We had a promise made_   
_Four hands and then away_ **   
**

 

* * *

 

** Bonus: K ** ** í ** **liel **

            "Where are we going this time?" Kíli asked, allowing Tauriel to lead him around the side of the stands.

 

Tauriel came to an abrupt stop at a corner and turned to face him.

 

Kíli, expecting to receive her lips upon his own, closed his eyes and stretched towards her, only to feel Tauriel's finger silencing him instead.

 

            "Somewhere we won't be spotted." She whispered, smirking at his eagerness.

 

Kíli sighed but nodded and they creep forwards.

 

            

            Tauriel had one last furtive glance out into the deserted street before closing the cottage door and turning to Kíli. "And you're sure that your people won't miss you?"

 

            Kíli stepped towards her, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Their thoughts will be on other matters, trust me." Just as he was about to reach Tauriel, there was a loud crack from above their heads and a part of the old roof fell in, bringing with it a cloud of dust and landing right where Kíli had been standing not a moment before. "Although, I do believe that this cottage might be working against us.”

 

            "Perhaps." Tauriel stepped around him, crouching down to inspect the broken pieces of ceramic tile.  Two lines danced across the tile, never quite touching as they carved their swirling patterns in the likeness of waves. With a delicate hand, she gathered the shattered pieces together and nudged a fragment of the shattered tile back into place, her action creating a path in the dust and debris. "But it's rather beautiful, is it not?" Kíli watched as she stood again, gazing around and ramshackle cottage. "This would be the kitchen." She pointed into a dusty corner. "Over there, a fireplace. We’d put two hooks on the back of the door; one for my bow, and one for you.  And on the wall we would have shelves, and line them with tokens of my people and yours." Her eyes were afire with possibility as she gazed about the room, and Kíli loved her all the more for that fire.

 

            He stepped up beside her. "And where would we sleep in this house?"

 

            Tauriel chuckled. "In a bed, naturally. Right here. We would need to patch up the roof"

 

            "Oh no, we would never repair this roof," Kíli said, lifting Tauriel's hand as high as he could to point to the sky through the hole above. "That way you will never be without the stars."

 

            "And when it rains?" Tauriel asked, looking up to the evening sky.

 

            Kíli let his arm slip around her waist, drawing her closer. "Then we enjoy the rain."

 

            Tauriel smiled, turning around in his embrace so that she was facing him. "You're awfully impractical for a Dwarf."

            

            "And you're awfully beautiful for an Elf." He replied, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. "One day we will build this house, I promise."

            

            Tauriel bent down, pressing her lips to his before pulling away. "But perhaps we should put glass over the hole in the roof?"

            

            "That would probably be a good idea." Kíli agreed

****

 

* * *

  

When Fíli reached the Reading Hall later that evening, he had completely forgotten about Sigrid’s new apprentice.

 

Fíli suppressed the tinge of disappointment he felt that they had company. He didn’t mind Aeron after all, but he had hoped…

            

            “Prince Fíli!” Aeron bounded up to Fíli as he stepped through the double doors. He pulled himself up as if remembering something he had been instructed and gave a clumsy bow. From the raw pink of his arms it was clear that someone had vigorously scrubbed the lad from top to bottom. His dark hair had been washed and combed into mutinous submission; one would have been hard-pressed to spot a speck of dirt upon his scrawny body. And even though nothing could be done to hide that he had outgrown his clothes, they too were none the less clean. The lad straightened up. “Sigrid said that you were coming tonight. She said you had a great idea for how ta’ fix the Kingdoms!”

 

            “I’m afraid Sigrid might have led you on there,” Fíli told the boy as they walked towards a book-laden desk. “I’m not so sure how _great_ an idea it will be.”

 

            “Well, Sigrid said it would be.” Aeron nodded with self-assurance. “She said that all the great ideas come from passion, and that you were one of the most passionate people she had ever met.”

 

At that moment, Sigrid came around a corner with a stack of the old Chronicles in her arms.

 

            “She did, did she?” Said Fíli quietly.

 

Oblivious to their conversation, Sigrid greeted Fíli with a smile. If she had known that Aeron had repeated her words, she might not have been so composed. As it was, she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face if only to have a moment to centre herself. _He was here for her help, nothing more._

 

Fíli felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. “Thank you for agreeing to come. I know the hour is late...”

 

            “Thank you for asking me to come.”

 

A cool draft whistled through the high windows, and Fili could not help but feel that Sigrid was keeping him at arm’s length. It wasn’t that she sounded unkind or put-out by his request; in fact her words were far more cordial than they had been only four days prior. And yet, she seemed suddenly distant, as if she had drawn a shield between them. Fíli felt his heart deflate slightly.

 

            “So when do we get ta’ hear the idea?” Aeron piped up, looking between the two of them.

 

Fíli pulled up a stool for Aeron as Sigrid took her own. Then, he proceeded to explain the idea that had come to him as he told the children his stories of the River. They listened with rapt attention, leaning in when he pointed to a particular figure that had been sketched into one of the old Chronicles. Sometimes Fíli almost lost his train of thought when he met Sigrid’s eyes. They seemed to blaze in the candle light, and Fíli wondered how he could have ever thought her quiet when she didn’t even need to open her mouth to speak louder than anyone he had ever met. But he endeavoured to keep his focus on the faded pages before him.

 

            When he was done he looked up. “What do you think?” he asked anxiously. “I know that it’s little more than a thought at this point, but I think that if we work together, even with the Elves…”

 

Suddenly, and to his intense shock, Sigrid sprang forwards and threw her arms around him, enveloping him in warmth. Had he not been so taken aback he might have responded, but realising what she had done, Sigrid quickly pulled away.

 

            “I’m sorry,” She muttered, blushing furiously. “It’s just that… Fíli,” She put her hand over her mouth, staring in awe and the pages that now seemed to spring to life with new possibilities, more substantial than dreams and visions. She looked back at him. “If we can put this before the Council and get them to combine their resources…we could flush the sickness from the fields, start using them for crops.”

 

            “It might take some time.” Fíli shrugged, trying to conceal just how fast his heart was racing. “We’d have to gather the materials, draw up designs, and negotiate the division of labour all before we begin planting.”

 

            Sigrid nodded. “But it’s a start.”

 

            “I’ve got a question,” he Aeron interjected with a frown. “How are you going to do it?”

            

            Sigrid reached forwards and pushed a pile of books toward him. “ _That_ is where we come in.” she replied.

 

Aeron looked with contempt at the large pile before him and groaned. Fíli couldn’t blame him; it was going to be a long night.

 

 

Aeron had long since fallen asleep; his cheek stuck to the pages of a book, and sometime during the night Sigrid too had begun to doze. At first Fíli hadn’t noticed the light pressure on his shoulder, he'd been too absorbed in sifting through the Chronicle before him. But when she shifted in sleep to nestle her head into a more comfortable position, he froze.

 

_Should he wake her? Should he move her? What if someone walked into the Hall?_

 

As he debated, she continued to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm.

 

He wondered what she was dreaming; what thoughts danced through her mind in the dark? She looked so peaceful, the faintest of smiles upon her lips. He thought quietly to himself that he wanted to be wherever she was now; to see what she saw, whatever it was that gave her such peace.

 

He reached out a gentle hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then, careful not to wake her, he turned back to the old book.

 

 

The candle had begun to sputter, the wick nearly burnt out, when Fíli finally closed the faded cover.

 

Sigrid stirred, her eyelashes fluttering in the slight gust of the falling pages.

            

            "Sigrid." Fíli said gently.

 

            "Mmmm?" She murmured, her eyes still shut.

 

            "It's late. We ought to return."

 

            "What if I don't want to?" She mumbled. "Can't I stay here?"

 

"I don't think you'll be very comfortable, my Lady." He smirked.

 

            She opened one eyelid to glare at him. "I've fallen asleep on your shoulder, and in all likelihood drooled. I think you can desist with this _My Lady_ business."

 

He chuckled and the deep rumble in his chest made her smile until grudgingly she had to admit that she was now awake.

 

            Sigrid lifted her head and looked over at the sleeping Aeron who had curled up on the floor. "Damn it!" She cursed. "I should have had him back to his mother hours ago." She stood to rouse him.

 

            "Wait." Fíli whispered, getting to his feet. "You don't have to wake him."

 

            Sigrid’s mouth almost fell open as Fili knelt beside Aeron and tenderly lifted the sleeping boy in his arms. "You've had practice at this." She remarked, watching as Aeron’s head fell gently against Fíli's chest.

            

            "I used to have to do the same with Kíli when he was younger." He smiled at the look on her face and then indicated the door with his head. "You should probably lead the way."

 

Sigrid blinked and then nodded, turning away to gather a lantern before they ventured out into the darkened streets.

 

 

            "Can I ask you a question?" Sigrid asked softly, watching her feet as they moved over stone.

            

            "Of course." Fíli adjusted the sleeping boy in his arms, careful to make each footstep smooth and even.

            

            "The story you were telling the other day, about your mother and father... the part about everyone having a One; do you believe it?"

 

            Fíli looked at her. "Of course."

 

Sigrid nodded pensively.

 

            "Dwarves were made different to men. My mother used to explain it as being cast in stone; we hate and love harder, stronger...faster."

 

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the streets as the bobbing lantern light entwined their shadows across the ground.

 

            "Is it certain; is there One for everyone?"

 

            Fíli thought for a moment. "No. Sometimes you never find your One. Sometimes your One was made for another. To find your One is..." He searched for the words. "It's worth more than anything; it’s everything."

 

            Sigrid nodded again, still watching her feet. "I like that idea."

 

Fíli chanced a glance at her. She took his breath away; errant hair catching in the shadowed moonbeams. Then he almost stumbled on an uneven stone and determined to keep his mind on the small sleeping boy in his arms.

 

Sigrid snuck a glance at Fíli through her loose hair, watching the careful attention he paid to each step. She had seen the Warrior, she had seen the Brother, there were times she believed that she saw the King. But here and now he was all of them, and this was Fíli.

 

            She came to a stop at the doorway to a small patched-up house with a lone candle in the window. "We're here."

 

She knocked gently on the door and Aeron's mother ushered them inside, clucking at the sleeping figure in Fíli's arms.

 

            "Once that boy is asleep he’s of no use to anyone." She turned to Fíli and Sigrid. "My Lady, Master Dwarf; thank you for bringing my boy home."

 

            "At your service, My Lady." Fíli inclined his head, unable to bow.

 

            The woman blushed and waved off the formality. "You best put him in his bed; he won’t make it by himself." She pointed them in the right direction and said that she would be along in a moment.

 

Sigrid pulled back the threadbare sheets as Fíli laid Aeron down. The boy turned his head and with a deep sigh nestled into his pillow.

 

Fíli watched as Sigrid knelt down and tucked the sheets up around his chin, placing a soft kiss to the boy’s temple.

            

            "You've had practice at this." Fíli whispered with a grin.

 

            "I used to have to do the same with Bain and Tilda." Sigrid replied without missing a beat.

 

            He looked at her outline in the shadow of the darkened room. "Can I ask you a question?"

   

            "Of course."

 

            "Do you believe in a One?"

 

            Sigrid’s breath hitched in her throat. "I do." She whispered.

 

Fíli nodded and smiled in the dark.

 

And as they crept from the room and back to their respective chambers, a big smile spread across Aeron's face, because he had been awake from the moment Fíli had lifted him in his arms. In the quiet of the night he had listened to a story and knew he was witness to something rare and beautiful, even if he hadn’t seen it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to suggest more bonus scenes for any character/s that you want :)  
> Thank you all for reading!  
> Mont Girl xxx


	10. Contest

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

_**King of the World** \- First Aid Kit _

 

_I keep running around_   
_Trying to find the ground_   
_But my head is in the stars_   
_And my feet are in the sky_   
_Well I'm nobody's baby_   
_I'm everybody's girl_   
_I'm the queen of nothing_   
_I'm the king of the world_

_And once you asked me well what's my biggest fear_  
That things would always remain so unclear  
That one day I'd wake up all alone  
With a big family and emptiness deep in my bones  
That I would be so blinded, turn a deaf ear  
And that my fake laugh would suddenly sound sincere

 

* * *

 

 

The morning of the tournament dawned just as fair as the day before and yet the market streets of Dale were deserted. The bright array of festive garlands strung high above the streets waved merrily in the gentle breeze although not a soul walked beneath them to enjoy the sight. It seemed that everyone within the vicinity of Dale had squeezed themselves into the stands erected beyond the city gates to watch the much-anticipated tournament.

 

 

Bard stepped out into the arena, his longbow in hand, and the crowd let up a great roar of approval through which it was still possible to discern the voices of each of his children. The King of Dale acknowledged his people and guests with a humble inclination of his head and then prepared to cast the first arrow from the Northern corner of the area. As Bard took his place, the first of the Men of Dale stepped up to a plinth on the Eastern point, bow clenched in his hand. At a signal from the announcer, Bard and the competitor notched arrows and drew their strings taught, the competitor’s eyes fixed on Bard while he trained his arrow on the space of air that marked exactly halfway between them.

 

Then Bard released his arrow, and an instant second later so too did the man. The competitor’s arrow sped toward Bard’s with a whistle and managed to clip its tail, knocking it off course and sending both into the netting that shielded the spectators. And thus began the archery tournament; whoever could split King Bard’s arrow in mid-air was to be declared the victor.

 

 

Owing to the fact that there weren't a great many Dwarven archers, Kíli was next to advance towards the Eastern plinth. He grinned broadly and gave a flourishing bow and the crowd applauded enthusiastically for the Dwarf Prince.

 

Fíli rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement as he clapped, noticing as he did that the Elf, Tauriel, wore the exact same from where she stood across the pit waiting her turn beside the Elven Prince.

 

Kíli stepped up to the plinth and notched his arrow to the string. Fíli held his breath along with the hushed crowd as his brother lined up the shot, Kíli’s fingers flexing and then tightening at the grip as he waited for Bard to shoot.

 

But just as Bard relinquished his arrow there was the slightest movement beyond Kíli’s line of sight, and Tauriel let out an audible cry of pain. Kíli twisted just as his fingers let go, and the crowd gasped as the arrow sailed not at all towards Bard’s arrow… but towards where Legolas and Tauriel stood.

 

Thranduil jumped to his feet in outrage as the arrow caught in the netting mere inches from the Elven Prince’s face.

 

Kíli leapt from the plinth and ran across the pit, but far from apologising to Legolas he ducked under the netting and went immediately to Tauriel’s side.

 

Tauriel was glaring at Legolas who was apologising profusely for stepping on her foot.

 

            "What does your brother think he is doing?" Thorin asked sharply from where he sat beside Fíli.

 

            Fíli swallowed. "I think he is apologising for nearly shooting them." He decided that it was best to omit rather than to lie.

 

            “He’s familiar with the Elf.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

            Fíli's hands felt rather clammy. “She was the one who healed him in Laketown.”

 

            Thorin glowered at Kíli, who was in turn glowering at Legolas. "Pity he missed his second target."

 

            "Lad didn’t miss." Dwalin muttered under his breath.

 

Fíli and Thorin looked perplexed.

 

            Dwalin nodded his head towards Kíli and Legolas "He knew _exactly_ what he was aimin’ for."

 

Thorin stared at his youngest nephew, and then his mouth curled into a smile of barely restrained pride.

 

Fíli sighed as Kíli ascended the stand towards them. Despite the slump in his shoulders at not having won the tournament, there was a satisfied curl of his lips that told Fíli that Dwalin’s intuition had been correct.

 

            “Bastard.” Kíli muttered darkly, taking his seat. “He did that on purpose, and now Tauriel is angry at _me_ for shooting at him!” He threw down his bow and scowled. “It’s not as if I could have hit him through the net anyway.”

 

            “We’ll if he’s trying to get you killed he’s going about it the right way.” Fíli muttered under his breath. “If you’re not careful you will start the next war.”

 

            “You know what?” Kíli said seriously, turning his shoulder to the arena. “I honestly don’t believe that will happen, too much has changed.”

 

            Fíli watched the disgruntled elves regroup as Legolas himself stepped forward to take the next turn. The crowd began to clap as he stepped up to the plinth, but many of the dwarves only brought their hands together once or twice. Fíli sighed. "Kíli, there are some things that not even three years-"

 

            "And sometimes it only takes a single moment to change everything.” Kíli insisted.

 

Fíli watched as Legolas smoothly cast his arrow, and heard the whoosh as it hit but did not split Bard’s arrow. There was a roar from the crowd, and Sigrid's brother Bain jumped to his feet, pointing and exclaiming loudly. A grinning Sigrid grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him back to his seat so that the people behind could see, but that didn't appear to stem the lad's enthusiasm as he mimicked the fluid technique of the elves to his equally excited younger sister. Sigrid was watching her sibling’s when she seemed to detect Fíli’s gaze on her. When their eyes met she smiled, just for him.

 

            Kíli nudged his brother as Sigrid turned back to hush an overexcited Tilda. "Are you trying to tell me that you don’t feel differently about anyone here?"

 

            "What do you mean?" Fíli frowned gruffly.

 

            Kíli snorted loudly. "Did Thorin drop you on your head too many times when you were born?"

 

            "I did not drop him once." Thorin interjected, not really listening as he watched one of the men of the Dale Guard walk up to the plinth.

 

            "Aye, but he might 'ave knocked ya head against a few walls." Dwalin smirked.

 

            Fíli turned to his uncle, grateful of the distraction. "Does my mother know about this?"

 

            "No." Thorin growled, his eyes still on the un-split arrow. "And unless you want a few more bumps to your head, I suggest that you don’t mention it." But there was a softness in his eyes; a softness that made Fíli’s heart ache for those days before the veil of unspoken words between them.

 

Dwalin stood up to take his turn and they stopped talking to watch.

 

 

 

Sigrid had her eyes firmly trained on the arena bellow. Bain had taken his leave to take his turn at the tournament, leaving Tilda on her left and an empty seat on the other. She should have known that it would not remain empty for long.

 

            “Princess Sigrid, may I have this seat?” Sigrid looked up to see that Roland, the son of the new Master of Laketown, had worked his way along the bench to where they sat.

 

Sigrid inclined her head in polite ascent and Roland took the seat beside her, taking her hand as he did and pressing his lips to it. He gave neither greeting nor acknowledgement to Tilda.

 

            “It seems unfair that the Men should have to compete against the Elves when they have had centuries more years of experience.” Roland said, indicating the line-up.

 

            “Perhaps,” Sigrid acknowledged, still watching the tournament. “But I would not be so quick to cast doubt upon the skill of the Men.”

 

            “Or the women.” Tilda muttered.

 

There was a great roar from the crowd around them as the arrow was once more hit and yet fell to the ground un-split.

 

            “Will _you_ be competing today, Roland?” Tilda asked from across Sigrid.

 

            “I will compete in the fighting later in the afternoon, little Princess. I would rather be amongst the warriors than the archers.”

 

Sigrid bit her tongue, training her eyes intently upon the competitors.

 

            Tilda got to her feet as the next competitor came forward. “Sigrid, I’m going to see if they need my help in the Healing tent. Roland,” she turned to face him. “I wouldn’t let the distinction trouble you. Nobody would ever call you either.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left.

 

            Sigrid had to bite her lip to keep from snorting. “I apologise for my sister.” she lied.

 

            “She is certainly…spirited.” Roland acknowledged, looking after the youngest Princess with a frown.

 

 

The sun had just reached the highest point in the sky, and yet despite many hits the arrow had not been split.

 

            “What will they do if nobody wins, will they hold another round or get on with the fighting?” Roland wondered aloud.

 

            “I don’t think they will need another round.” Sigrid replied, watching as Tauriel prepared to take the eastern plinth.

 

Tauriel had opted to take her turn last, and while this might have seemed like an act of chivalry from the Captain of the Archers of Dale, anyone who knew Tauriel could be sure that it was, in fact, a display of utter confidence. And what was more, anyone who knew Tauriel was well aware that she had every reason to be confident.

 

But when Tauriel stepped forwards, she did not have her bow in her hand. Instead she walked over to the announcer and whispered something in his ear. The man’s eyebrows rose and then he nodded, clearing his throat and raising both his hands to address the crowd.

 

            “It seems that we have a last minute entrant into the tournament!” Please make welcome-” He looked to Tauriel for the name but Tauriel just shook her head. “Please make the competitor welcome!”

 

The crowd began whispering behind their hands, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the surprise entrant.

 

The figure that stepped into the pit was adorned in light chainmail, a helmet that obscured their face, and a chest-plate over a plain tunic.

 

The hushed whispering intensified.

 

            "Who is that?" Roland he whispered into her ear.

 

Sigrid could only shake her head blankly as she too craned her neck in curiosity. They seemed too short to be a Man or an Elf, and not nearly broad enough to be a Dwarf.

            “Seems mighty foolish to be wearing a helmet in an archery contest.” Roland scoffed.

 

Sigrid privately agreed.

 

            Bard raised a hand and the crowds fell silent. "Ready?" He called to the masked competitor.

 

The short figure nodded silently, and Bard drew his bow.

 

Then, the arrows flew.

 

With a splintering and resolute crack they collided and span towards the ground. The crowd was on its feet in an instant, pushing forward towards the railing to catch a glimpse of the arrows. A second later a great shouting went up, and not even the announcer could be heard as he lifted the two arrows aloft; Bard's arrow cleanly pierced and splintered directly at its centre.

 

The crowd was screaming and stomping in approval for the masked competitor who stood frozen in disbelief at the eastern plinth.

 

            Bard stepped forward with a barely disguised look of relief on his face. "I think the people would like to know the identity of their champion." He said in a carrying voice.

 

The figure seemed to peer up at him and then slowly reached up with both hands to lift the helmet from their head. The crowd watched as long mouse brown waves of hair tumbled from beneath the aventail, and Bard's mouth fell open as his youngest daughter grinned up at him.

 

            “Tilda?”

 

Sigrid was frozen in shock, unaware that she had risen to her feet in the stands. _Tilda?_

 

_But she said she was going to the healing tent…_

 

Then, a grinning Tauriel began to clap, the sound echoing across the arena. Sigrid too began to clap, bring her fingers to her lips and whistling loudly. And as if shaken from a reverie the noise was suddenly taken up by the crowd, growing louder and louder as they laughed and cheered for Tilda.

 

            Tilda turner to her Da. “You’re not angry are you, Da? I’ve been training with Tauriel and she said I should enter, but that it would have to be a secret so that nobody could accuse me of cheating.”

 

            A wide grin spread across Bard’s shocked face. “Angry? My darling, I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud.”

 

Tauriel caught Sigrid’s eye and winked while the crowd continued to clap and stomp their feet. Sigrid just shook her head in awe and laughed.

 

It took a long while for them to take their seats again.

 

 

 

Soon enough, it was time for the fighting.

 

The combatants stood waiting at the side of the pit while the arena was cleared. Some, like Kíli, were conversing amiably and placing bets of who would come out on top. Others, like Dwalin, had turned away from everyone else, their faces drawn in deep concentration and looking as if they might strike out at anyone who approached them.

 

Fíli was staring murderously at the back of the head of the lad who had been sat beside Sigrid. He had never considered himself to be particularly violent, but he also wasn’t one to shy away from a fight, and at that very moment he was strategizing the best way to position himself on the field so as to be the one to crush the hands that had dared to steal a kiss from Sigrid. 

 

            Fíli reached out and caught Bain’s arm as he made his way past. “Who is that?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the lad’s blond curls.

 

            Bain looked about. “Oh, that’s the New Master of Laketown’s son, Roland.”

 

            “He doesn’t look like he’s done much fighting.” Fíli remarked disparagingly, looking the lad up and down.

 

            “I think he’s only doing it today because of Sigrid.” Bain shrugged.

 

            Suddenly, Kíli appeared beside them. “What was that about your sister?”

 

Bain reiterated while Fíli clenched his knuckled around his swords.

 

            Kíli inspected the lad from where they stood. “She could do much better.” A mischievous twinkled suddenly lit his eyes. “Would you introduce us, Bain. Since it is his first time, we ought to give the lad some pointers, don’t you agree?”

 

            “It would be only fair.” Bain agreed with the same glint look, and he led them forwards.

 

Reaching the lad, Bain tapped him on the shoulder and Roland turned. He was probably handsome by human standards, Fíli noted. His hair had a gentle curl, a sharp jaw and striking green eyes set deep in his brow, but he didn’t have a beard, not even a whisker.

 

            “Hello there, Bain.” The lad ruffled Bain’s hair even though Bain was as tall as he was.

 

            Bain disguised his grimace well. “Roland, I’d like to introduce to Kíli and Fíli, the Princes of Erebor.”

 

Kíli and Fíli bowed in unison.

 

            Roland held out a hand to each. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

 

            “The pleasure is ours.” Kíli replied. Fíli’s mouth was set in a painful half-smile.

 

            “So how are you feeling?” Bain asked. “You must be nervous.”

 

            “Not really,” the lad shrugged. “I’ve done a spot of training with father’s Laketown guard.”

 

            “Your confidence is admirable.” Kíli sighed. “I only wish I felt the same, especially after the last tournament…”He bit his lip and grimaced.

 

            “What do you mean?” the lad frowned.

 

            “It’s just that last year when this tournament was held in Erebor,” Bain lowered his voice to a whisper. “Two people died.”

 

Roland’s green eyes widened and Bain nodded stoically.

 

            “We had three amputations on the first day.” Kíli added.

 

            “Amputations?” The lad glanced nervously at the gates of the pit.

 

            “An arm, a hand, and…” Kíli indicated the region bellow his belt and Roland shuddered, turning noticeably pale.

 

            “Don’t worry about it too much.” Fíli said, clapping a hand to the lad’s back slightly harder than he intended. “Just keep clear of Dwalin.” He indicated the dwarf who was sharpening his axes on his knuckle dusters. “And whatever you do, don’t let him catch you even looking at Princess Sigrid.”

 

Kíli had to hide his snort in a cough.

 

            “Why?” Roland asked nervously.

 

            “Treats both the Princesses like daughters after the aid they gave us in Laketown.” Fíli explained. “I wouldn’t risk it.”

 

Dwalin looked up at that moment to see them all watching him, his eyes narrowed. They turned away hurriedly.

 

            “Well,” Kíli clapped the lad across the back again. “We best make sure that we’re ready. Good luck!” they turned away, not before noticing the slight tremble in Roland’s hand as he gripped his thin sword.

 

 

 

The competitors were paired off and each pair assigned a square within the pit. The rules were that if you disarmed your opponent of forced them to step outside the boundaries of your square, you were the victor. As the matches progressed the squares were to be combined as the victors of each pair faced off.

 

Fíli’s first opponent was one of the Men of Dale who was quickly put off by having to defend against two weapons at once. With a well-aimed strike Fíli knocked the man off balance and with his other hand sent the sword clattering into the dust. There was a smattering of applause, and after he shook his opponent’s hand, Fíli had a moment to watch those around him.

 

Dwalin was thankfully on the other side of the pit so Fíli wouldn’t face the warrior anytime soon. Bain was facing off against Nori who was surprisingly quick to dodge the prince’s blows and slip past as Bain pushed him towards the boundaries. Roland was facing Legolas, and Fíli watched with savage please as the lad lunged at the Elf who twisted effortlessly and allowed the lad’s misplaced momentum to send him across the boundary. Meanwhile, in the square beside him Kíli was facing Tauriel.

 

            “He stepped on you on purpose!” Kíli hissed as he deftly blocked Tauriel’s double strike.

 

            “So you tried to shoot him?” Tauriel seethed. Putting her daggers back and sidestepping Kíli’s advance.

 

            “He was never going to get hit.” Kíli scoffed.

 

            “But. You. Tried.” Tauriel punctuated each word with a high strike, giving Kíli no choice but to step backwards and defend them.

 

            “What was I supposed to do? I was defending your honour.” He cried out.

 

The other pairs were all nearly finished and all eyes were being drawn to the still brawling elf and dwarf.

 

            Kíli’s sword caught the inside of one of Tauriel’s daggers in mid-air and he pushed it around so the space between them was open. “My honour is my own to defend.” Tauriel seethed, and with that she struck Kíli’s sword once, twice and then knocked it from his hand.

 

The crowd applauded wildly for their Captain and Tauriel straightened up, re-sheathing her dagger at her back.

 

Kíli stalked from the arena, glowering darkly, and Fíli drew himself up to face down the still seething Elf.

 

            “Tauriel.” He inclined his head.

 

            “Prince Fíli.” She nodded curtly.

 

Fíli set a silent prayer to Mahal that Tauriel’s rage would make her an easier target rather than a better fighter. But when the horn to commence the second round sounded it became clear that Mahal had not been listening.

 

Tauriel whirled and spun with a dizzying lethal speed, her crimson hair almost a weapon in itself as it whipped through the air behind her. It was all that Fíli could do to avoid her daggers.

 

            “This isn’t a fight to the death!” Fíli cried out in alarm as one of her blades came dangerously close to his moustache.

 

            Tauriel’s eyes narrowed and she swung for him again. “Perhaps you should tell your brother that."

 

            “Look,” Fíli hissed as he blocked a strike aimed at his legs. “He did it for you.”

 

            Tauriel raised an eyebrow and drew back for a second. “What are you trying to say?”

 

            Fíli drew himself up. “I’m telling you to talk to him. He might be an idiot, but he loves you. And from what I can see, you love him too. Now,” Fíli raised his swords. “Can we get back to the fight?”

 

He didn’t last much longer. Tauriel knew how to use her height to an advantage and she at last pushed him across the boundary. Yet he was struck with a sudden understanding and kinship with Tauriel. It wasn’t that he suddenly saw how genuinely she cared for his brother; that had been as plain as the lack of beard on Kíli’s face ever since Laketown. Rather, he felt that he understood the kind of reckless courage it took for them to want to be together when nobody else around them would accept it. Later as he watched Tauriel being declared champion, he could only hope that he would find the same courage in himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be releasing a chapter or two a day for the next few days because I am going to be volunteering overseas for two weeks and I won’t have access to my computer. Stay tuned for frequent updates and thank you all so much for reading!  
> Mont Girl of Lumatere xxx


	11. Courage and King

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

**Courage **

_****"Breathe"** \- Angles and Airwaves** _

_My hands shake clasped with fear, as you come near_  
To say goodnight, just like a dove.  
A peaceful sign.  
To help us by, as you come in,  
Let this begin.  
Stars fall like dust, our lips will touch,  
We speak too much.

_Did you know that I love you?_   
_Come and lay with me._   
_I love you._   
_And on this day, I love you._   
_You make me feel alive,_   
_And I'll love you_   
_Until the end of time._

 

Fíli, Sigrid, and Aeron had again spent the night in the Reading Hall, this time drawing up rough sketches of their own while using the Chronicles as a guide. They worked intently into the early hours of the morning, determined to corral the loose thoughts and ideas into a solid plan in order to present it to the Council on the next day, the final day.

 

When Fili woke early that morning he brushed aside any effects of the yesterday’s Tournament and the late night, hastily pulling on his boots in his eagerness to get to the final meeting.

 

The door adjoining his and Kíli’s chamber opened with a creaking groan and his brother shuffled into his room, his eyes slightly bloodshot and his hair a tangled mess.

 

            “It’s a crime to be awake and functioning at this hour.” Kíli yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Then he frowned. “I thought the meeting didn’t start until later?”

 

            Fíli began to tuck his axes into his boots. “Sigrid and I are presenting a plan to the Council, I want to be ready.”

 

Any trace of weariness was immediately wiped from Kíli’s face. "So..." Kíli sat himself down on the end of his brother’s bed. "Are you going to tell her that you like her?"

 

Fíli bit his lip and purposefully ignored his brother.

 

Kíli smirked, stretching himself out quite comfortably and clearly indicating that he had no intention whatsoever of moving.

 

            Fíli groaned and stomped over the chest where his swords were kept. "Don't you have an Elf to woo?"

 

            The smirk slipped from Kíli’s face. "Said Elf wasn't exactly thrilled with my impeccable aim during the tournament."

 

            "I noticed. Have you tried apologising?" Fíli suggested, turning back to face his brother.

 

            Kíli picked at a corner of the rug. " _He_ started it."

 

            Fíli sighed. "Look," he sat on the bed beside his brother. "You won't hear me arguing that the pixie didn't have it coming, but... he and Tauriel have known each other for many years, and then you came along and suddenly Tauriel threw away everything she had known; her position, and her home, all for you. Don't you think he has a right to disapprove?"

 

Kíli looked up at him, and Fíli was utterly disarmed by the sudden vulnerability in Kíli's face.

 

            "Is that how you feel?" Kíli asked quietly.

 

            Fíli considered for a moment. "Three years ago we went on an adventure to chase the stories we grew up on, but I think that somewhere along the way a shadow fell over our own. And all that time I thought that I would never see you smile again; that I had lost my idiotically optimistic baby brother.” He bumped Kíli’s shoulder with his own. “But then you met Tauriel, and suddenly I wasn't worried that I would never see you happy again, only that others would try to take it from you." He looked at his little brother. "I just want you to be happy. It's all I've ever wanted."

 

            "And I want the same for you." Kíli said adamantly.

 

            Fíli stood up. "It's not that simple-"

 

            "Why not?"

 

            "Because…" He started pacing.

 

            Kíli pulled him back down. "Now it's your turn to listen to me."

 

Fíli made to open his mouth but Kíli held up a finger in a manner that was alarmingly reminiscent of their mother.

 

Fíli closed his mouth in mute submission as Kíli fixed him with a stern look.

 

            "We don’t choose who we fall in love with. Do you think that if I had a choice I would have picked an Elf to be my One? Never! But, Tauriel… I would choose her over and over again, in any life, no matter what.” Kíli sighed. “You like Sigrid. There's no point in denying it because it's as plain as the beard on your face. And I know that she feels the same way."

 

            Fíli's head snapped up. "How can you be sure?"

 

            Kíli pulled his fingers through his tangled hair in exasperation. “See, this is why I didn’t mess around with Tauriel; she knew right from the start that I fancied her.”

 

            “And look where that’s got you now!” Fíli pointed out.

 

            “At least it’s more than you and Sigrid! For Mahal’s sake Fí, you’re in love with her and she's in love with you! It doesn’t get any simpler than that, but watching the two of you is like… well it’s a damned tragedy. You look at her and see your Queen, and she looks and you and sees her King, but neither of you is selfish enough to say anything about it out loud!”

 

            Fíli blinked. "Wh-what do I do about it?" He stammered.

 

            “Simple. You tell her how you feel.”

 

            Fíli frowned. “How is _that_ supposed to be simple?”

 

            “You just tell her!” When Fíli continued to look perplexed, Kíli sighed. “Pick your moment of courage; a moment when you pretend that there is nothing standing in your way, a moment when you ignore everything that might go wrong. In that moment what would you say to her?”

 

_A moment of courage._

 

            Fíli looked down at his hands, remembering the way her fingers had brushed against his, the burning feel of her skin against his. “I’d tell her that I love her.” He said quietly. “I'd tell her that I'm in love with the way she smiles. I'd tell her that I'm in love with the way that one strand of hair always falls across her eyes.  I'd say that her courage has me captive. I'd tell her that the way she sees the world takes my breath away, because everywhere that I see darkness she points out the light. I'd tell her that when I think about my life; about the moments that truly matter, I imagine them with her." He looked up at his brother. "I'd tell her that I love her, and that I want to spend the rest of our lives telling her why."

 

There was silence.

 

            “She really is your One.” Kíli said quietly.

 

Fili nodded; half awed and half terrified.

 

            “Well then,” Kíli clapped his hands together. “Now you need to tell her exactly what you told me; tonight, at the feast! I’ll create a distraction and then you take Sigrid aside and tell her.”

 

            Fíli frowned. "Kíli, what-"

 

            “Just trust me, brother." Kíli smiled and jumped up from the edge of the bed. "Now come on, you've got a Princess to woo and I have and Elf to appease."

 

            Fíli sighed and got to his feet as Kíli appraised him. "Are you sure you want to wear _that_ to the meeting?"

 

            "What wrong with it?" Fili asked anxiously, trying to twist to inspect the back until Kíli grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room.

 

 

* * *

  **King**

 

_**"Demons"** \- Imagine Dragons _

_I wanna hide the truth_   
_I wanna shelter you_   
_But with the beast inside_   
_There's nowhere we can hide_   
  
_No matter what we breed_   
_We still are made of greed_   
_This is my kingdom come_   
_This is my kingdom come_

 

Sigrid stood beside Bard while they waited for everyone to arrive, a bundle of scrolls balanced in her hands.

            

            "So I still don't get to know what they say?" Bard grumbled, eyeing off the bundle.

 

            "Nope." Sigrid replied resolutely. "You'll have to wait just like everyone else."

 

            Bard frowned. "Not even a hint for your poor old Da?"

 

            Sigrid shook her head, grinning. "You're not old yet, Da, so begging will get you nowhere."

 

            Bard sighed long-sufferingly but then looked sideways at his daughter. "I am glad to see you smile." He said softly. "I know that the idea of your betrothal must seem daunting..."

 

But Sigrid didn't hear the rest.

 

_Her betrothal._

 

She had forgotten.

 

Before, it had been simple; a choice she didn't have to think about. Before, she knew where her heart lay; in doing the right thing for Dale, and her siblings. But now…

 

When she had imagined it, she at least knew that her betrothed would be a kind man; her father would ensure that. She knew that there would probably not be love at first, but she imagined that it would grow in the years. She had pictured her future with this man; sharing a home, children, a life. And whenever she had imagined it, her husband had been unidentifiable; as if she was viewing his face at a distance and it hadn't quite come into focus yet. But now... now the picture was clear, as if Fíli had always been there all along only she hadn't realised. And it broke her heart to know that the vision would never be,

 

She felt her father straighten up beside her, and Sigrid looked up to see the procession of Kings and Councillors striding down hall. And like every time, her eyes automatically sought out his, but she schooled herself and kept them on Thranduil who was leading the way.

 

She bowed respectfully as the Councillors reached the doors, and when Bard opened them she stepped though, keeping her eyes fixed on the room.

 

But she didn't need to look to know that Fíli had stepped up beside her.

 

            "Your hands are shaking." he whispered as they moved towards the table.

 

She had been trying to ignore it; the sickly sensation in her stomach that had nothing to do with what was about to happen. But before she could clench her hands, she felt strong fingers wrap around hers and squeeze tight, and that was enough; only a moment, but it would have to do for the rest of her life. Then he let go and turned down the opposite length of the table to join his company.

 

            Sigrid sat down, her mind lost in a haze as Bard cleared his throat. "Welcome to this, the final day of our Council." He inclined his head respectfully to each of his fellow kings. "We have spoken at length, putting forth our knowledge and experience as testament for the wisdom of our words and our Kingdoms grow stronger and closer for it. But we would be wrong to believe that our words are the only ones that matter."

 

Thranduil shifted slightly in his chair.

 

            "We are gathered here to create a better future," Bard continued. "But this future does not belong to us; it belongs to those who will carry on the task after we are gone." He looked in turn to Legolas, Fíli and Sigrid, the heirs. "It seems only right that they should also share in the building of their future. So in that spirit I believe that we have a proposal to hear."

 

He sat down.

 

Sigrid did not register a word her father said, her mind was ringing with the word proposal; like a lone bell tolling solemnly from the tower.

 

It was only when Fíli stood and cleared his throat that she was able to shake the echoing word from her mind.

            

            "My Lords, my Lady." His eyes met hers.

 

Sigrid swallowed. She didn't want to be here; she didn't want to stand here and lay out plans for the future when the very idea of hers felt like twisting dagger to her heart. But she drew herself up none the less and met Fíli's eyes steadily, and then together they laid before the Kings of the Council their dreams for their kingdoms. Sigrid explained the plans for irrigating the lands around Dale to wash away the desolation, how the Elves would use their knowledge of such things so plot and plan, how the Dwarves would create the channels that would funnel water through the lands, and how the Men of Dale would farm the land and trade with what was grown. When Thranduil made to object, Fíli outlined how, by diverting a portion of the river, the water would create a natural barrier, and that the daily operation of the channels would combine with a watch post. Then he stood back triumphantly as they began to enthusiastically negotiate the finer points of such a venture.

 

Sigrid watched the gleam in his eyes, the way they seemed to spark as his passion drew everyone in. He would make a truly great King, she thought, but he would never be hers.

 

 

When all was said and the arrangements to begin immediately were made, they all stood up and began to congratulate each other on the momentous progress of the Council.

 

 

Thorin watched as Fíli spoke animatedly to Balin. He had always believed that his nephew was born to be King in more than just lineage. But since the quest to reclaim the Mountain and ever since the battle, a doubt had lingered in his mind if his nephew wanted to be a King or if he only considered it a duty. But today he saw that something had changed; a desire and conviction had been reborn that lit Fíli from within with a hope and vitality. And suddenly a great sense of peace came upon Thorin for the first time in a long time, because he could now see the brilliant future before his nephew and his people.

 

Fíli looked around excitedly searching for Sigrid, wanting to share the excitement with her. But Sigrid was speaking intently to one of the Elves, and Fíli tried to ignore the jealous creature that roared within his chest to see her attentions held by another.

 

But before he could act upon the urge, the party of Erebor began to take their leave, and although his eyes never left her, she did not turn to face him.

 

And it was as if the euphoria from moments before was utterly insignificant.

 

 

 

He walked slowly back along the hall, allowing Balin and the others to walk ahead. Then he sensed someone fall into step beside him.

 

            Thorin cleared his throat. "What you did in there; the things you said..."

 

Fíli waited as the sound of their footfalls echoed along the empty corridor.

 

            "You will be the King I could not be."

 

            Fíli stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at him. "Uncle, how can you say that? After all you have done, everything you have given our people; you brought us home!”

 

            Thorin shook his head. "And yet I can never make up for the wrongs I have done along the way; the pain I caused...”

 

            Fíli made to protest, but Thorin held up a hand before laying it upon Fíli's shoulder. "I have considered for some time stepping down and passing the throne to you. My task is done; I have restored our people to their rightful home, the glory of our ancestors has been reclaimed. But now I am weary, the quest... The gold," he swallowed. "I have come to realise that such things leave scars that we cannot see...that never heal." He looked at Fíli. "Our people deserve a King who is whole…and unbroken. You are that King."

            

            "But how am I supposed to be whole without you by my side?" His voice shook and he felt like a child again.

 

            Thorin squeezed his shoulder. "I will not abandon you." He vowed. "In five years I will relinquish the kingdom to you, my heir. Then I shall remain by your side for as long as you need me as your advisor. But when you are ready, and you will be…then I think I shall go west; take the path we once travelled together, see our burglar." Then he smiled. "It's a strange thing to have journeyed so far to find home, only to realise that you have found it along the way."

 

The breath caught in Fíli's throat as he struggled to find words.

 

But Thorin seemed to know what he wanted to say, and so he pressed his forehead to his nephew's with such tender respect and affection that it rendered any words redundant.

 

            Thorin stepped back and cleared his throat. "Where is your brother?" He asked, continuing on their way back to their chambers. "He's not with that blasted Elf, is he?"

 

            For the second time, Fíli stopped in his tracks. "You... You know about Tauriel?" He spluttered.

 

            Thorin scoffed. "Of course I know. Your brother has all the subtlety of a blunt axe. Why else do you think he hasn't been caught sneaking back and forth between Dale?"

 

            Fíli’s mouth gaped. "But then why haven't you said anything?"

 

            Thorin sighed. “Because for now, that is all I can do. To accept it openly would be to weaken our position amongst the other Dwarf families, and you will need their support. We will need to show them our strength, and the only way to achieve that is through land and wealth.”

 

            Fili nodded. “So you won’t forbid them?”

 

            “No. I will not.” Thorin paused, his hand on the door handle, a smirk playing at his mouth. And Fíli thought he could see traces of Kíli's own carefree grin in the lines about his uncle's mouth. "For now, it's punishment enough that he is terrified of me discovering his secret." Thorin answered, and then he turned and closed the door behind him.

 

Fíli turned towards the door to his own chamber, his mind reeling. Thorin would pass the rule of Erebor over to him. In five years he would be King.

 

He sat down upon his bed and with the path before him revealed he knew with perfect certainty that tonight, at the final Feast of the Council, he would tell Sigrid that when he imagined his future as King it was with her as his Queen.

 

 

 

Sigrid waited until the delegates from Erebor had departed the room and excused herself from the conversation with the Mirkwood delegates, turning away and walking towards where King Thranduil stood.

 

The Elvenking drew himself up as she approached, his eyes narrowing as if unsure what to expect.

 

            “May I ask you a question?” She began, too tired to preface the question with pleasantries.

 

            Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “You may.”

 

            “What did Aeron try to steal from you the other day?”

 

Thranduil blinked, taken aback by the question. His head tilted to the side as he considered the young woman who carried the weight of the world in her eyes. “It was a necklace… it once belonged to my wife.”

 

            Sigrid nodded. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

 

            “As am I.”

 

Sigrid turned and walked away, understanding then exactly how he had felt at the prospect of losing something that mattered so much.

 

 


	12. Surrender and Sacrifice

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

* * *

** Surrender **

. ** _"I’ll Be (45 Version)" - Edwin McCain_ **

_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful_  
Stop me and steal my breath  
Emeralds from mountains thrust towards the sky   
Never revealing their depth   
Tell me that we belong together   
Dress it up with the trappings of love   
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips   
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above 

 

            Kíli held out a hand, hesitated and then knocked quietly on the door to her chamber. "Tauriel." he called softly. "May I speak with you?"

            

            "I'm not all that certain I want to speak to you." Tauriel's voice issued from the other side.

 

            Kíli glanced furtively along the corridor, knowing that at any moment he could be discovered. "Tauriel I'm sorry." He tried.

 

            He heard Tauriel's sigh. He could imagine her with her head bowed against the door other side of the door, her delicate lip between her teeth in the manner she always did when she was deep in thought. "I know that you're sorry." she began. "But don't you see; how can you believe that your people will ever accept me if you cannot even put aside a petty skirmish with my dearest friend?"

 

            Kíli shifted his feet. "To be fair, Amrâlimê; Legolas started it." When Tauriel didn't respond, he sighed and let his head rest against the door. "You're right; it was petty, and reckless, and I shouldn't have done it. But you have to know that it had nothing to do with you being and Elf, or even me being a Dwarf." When Tauriel didn't speak he pressed his palm against the door in earnest. "Tauriel, I love you for _who_ you are, not _what_ you are. You could be a Warg for all I care!" He heard the sound of her quiet laugh and smiled to himself, head still bent towards the door. "Amrâlimê, please let me in." He beseeched.

 

He waited and eventually the door opened. 

 

            Tauriel stepped back to let him in, but stopped at the sight of him, her eyebrows raised as she took in the ridiculously out of place battle helmet he wore on his head. "Is that because of me?" She asked, half amused and half ashamed.

 

            Kíli grinned sheepishly as he stepped through the door. "Can't be too careful when attempting to apologise to a Tournament Champion." 

 

Tauriel stepped towards him and placing her hands on both sides of the helmet gently lifted it from his head so that she could claim his lips in hers. Her kiss was warm and deep, and Kíli wrapped his arms around her waist as she held his face in hers.

 

            “You’re very good at apologising.” Tauriel said as she pulled away.

 

            “And you’re very good at accepting.” Kíli purred.

 

            “True,” Tauriel said with a playful smile. “Legolas had the same expression after I accepted his apology.”

 

            When Kíli narrowed his eyes Tauriel chuckled. “It was a much different apology I can assure you.”

 

            “Lots of grovelling?”

 

            “Incessantly.”

 

            “Good.” And he reached up to kiss her again.

 

            Tauriel laughed against his lips and stepped forwards, placing her hands at his shoulders and guiding him until they were at the door and she gently pushed him back. “I need to go. I’m on guard duty at the Gatehouse tonight.”

 

            Kíli pouted. “So I won’t see you at the feast?”

 

            “I’ll try and put in an appearance.”

 

            "Excellent.” Kíli rubbed his hands together. “Fíli and Sigrid need our help.”

 

****

 

 

A light summer breeze rustled the adorned boughs of the acorn tree that grew in the centre of the town square. Reaching high into the star spangled sky, its lower branches dripped with suspended candles that floated above the heads of all those who had come for the feast. Fiddles wove their melody through the lively beat of the tambourine as men, women, children, dwarves, and even the elves danced with joyous abandon in the wide open city square.

 

            "Sigrid, are you ready?"

 

Sigrid turned from her window to see Tilda standing at her door.

 

            Tilda gasped. "Sigrid, you look incredible!"

 

Sigrid wore an elegant dress of blue silk with metallic gold brocade. Its sleeves were composed not of material but of many tiny gold beads threaded together. They caught and sparkled in the light, the design such that it wrapped around her shoulders as if she were encased in two golden gossamer wings.

 

            Tilda lifted the fabric of her own dress dispiritedly. “I look like a sack of potatoes.”

 

            Sigrid looked at Tilda in horror. “A sack of potatoes! Why would you think such a thing?”

 

            “I’m not beautiful like you, Sig.” She mumbled, watching her feet.

 

            Sigrid stepped towards her. “Tilda, you are far from a sack of potatoes.” She brushed a strand of hair back from her sister’s face and tucked it neatly behind her ear. “You have the kindest of hearts, and you are _much_ cleverer than me. ‘Beautiful’ does not do you justice.”

 

            Tilda met her older sister’s eyes. “But nobody looks at me the way they look at you.”

 

            Sigrid’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

 

            “Fí- Prince Fíli, the way he was looking at you that day you stood up to Thranduil, and every day since. He looked at you like you were… a piece of the sun that had fallen to earth. “

 

            “Did he really?” Sigrid asked quietly, feeling her heart beat wildly in her chest.

 

            Tilda nodded adamantly. “I want someone to look at me like that.” She whispered.

 

            “What about the way that I look at you?” Sigrid smiled. “Do I not look at you as if you are a piece of the sun that has fallen to earth?”

 

            Tilda grinned despite herself and nudged her sister with her shoulder. “It’s not the same.”

 

            “I know.” Sigrid sighed. “But it’s worth just as much.”

 

Tilda nodded and threw her arms around her sister, holding her tight until the bell chimed to signal the start of the feast.

 

            Sigrid released her sister and held out her hand. "We’d better get going. Imagine if we missed the food!"

 

            “I’d prefer _not_ to imagine that.” Tilda grinned.

 

 

The sisters descended the stairs arm in arm to where Bard and Bain awaited them at the landing, looking resplendent and somewhat uncomfortable in their royal garb.

 

            "Look at my two girls." Bard exclaimed with pride. “How can one man be so lucky?”

 

A grinning Tilda launched herself into his arms from the last step, and Bard caught her soundly with a laugh.

 

            Bain appraised Sigrid as she descended the last step. "You look extra nice, Sig. Dressing up for anyone in particular?" The corners of his lips twitched.

 

            Sigrid lifted her chin. "I'm dressed entirely for my own gratification." She looked him up and down in his new robes of rich maroon. "We've come a long way from the Lake haven't we?"

 

            Bain shrugged. "I reckon I could still cast a better line than you."

 

            "You wish!" Sigrid scoffed, swiping him affectionately over the back of the head.

 

There was a loud bang from down the hall and they all looked up. The front doors had swung open and the music of the festivities infiltrated the room followed by Tauriel, who strode towards them wearing her guard uniform and an expression of annoyance.

 

            "King Bard," she drew level with them and bowed her head swiftly, glancing sideways at Sigrid with a look that made dread pool in the pit of her stomach.

 

            Tauriel turned back to Bard. "We have a party of men from the West demanding entrance into the kingdom."

 

Tilda clutched Bard’s arm.

 

            "They claim to have been invited….for Lady Sigrid's betrothal."

 

It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Sound was drowned by the rush of blood in her ears as Sigrid’s heart beat faster in its cage.

 

            "They weren't supposed to arrive for another five days!" Bard exclaimed, pulling his hand through his hair. "We'll have to admit them. No doubt they will wish to attend the feast." He muttered.

 

_The feast. Fíli would be there. He couldn’t find out like this._

            Bard looked apologetically to his oldest daughter. "I had thought to announce your betrothal to our people once our guests had departed." He said quietly "But I suppose we ought to do it tonight, when everyone is present.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Think of it as a little extra time to get to know this man. It might turn out to be a good thing."

 

Sigrid swallowed and mastered herself enough to give a small smile.

 

            “But I thought F-” Tilda began, but Sigrid just shook her head, trying to ignore the look on Bain’s face.

 

            Bard turned back to Tauriel. "See that they are admitted and show them to the East Wing of the guest quarters. Then invite them to attend the feast if they wish."

 

Tauriel nodded, her eyes locked meaningfully on Sigrid. Her message was clear; Sigrid needed to tell Fíli now, before he found out from anyone else. As Tauriel stepped aside she whispered something in Sigrid's ear. Sigrid bit her lip and nodded, and then Tauriel was gone.

 

Bard gripped Sigrid's arm tight in his and Sigrid felt Tilda take her other arm and give it a squeeze, before they walked together through the double doors.

 

 

 

There was no official fanfare as the royal family stepped through the doors; Bard had never seen the need for such ceremony. But on that night, there might as well have been.

 

Some looked up at Bard, for when he had stood alone upon the dais at his coronation with the crown newly rested upon his head they had called him the Reluctant King. But that night, with his family by his side, he was as a great King of ages past.

 

Some looked upon the youngest Princess, feeling their spirits lift in the infectious radiance of her smile.

 

Some gazed proudly upon the young heir, the very image of his father; with a strength burning in his eyes and inherent nobility in his brow.

 

And the eyes of others were drawn to the oldest Princess. She stood tall and resolute at the left hand of her father, a vision of golden skin and hair, cloaked in emerald and embraced by delicate beaded wings. The people of Dale gazed upon their Princess with love and awe, but none compared to the Prince of Erebor.

 

Fíli had stood beside his brother in deep conversation with one of the men about the plans for irrigating the land, but turned his head as a quiet descended upon the ground.

 

Then, their eyes met.

 

It's the oldest story in the world; love. It's romance, it's tragedy, it's drama, it's suspense… and yet, it's the rarest and most treasured tale of all. But sometimes you can get so caught up in turning the pages that you don't stop to see the words, even though it's the words that make the book; the little moments that make the page worth turning, like when two people look across a crowded space and see only each other. Those are the moments that make the story, and this was theirs.

 

The noise gradually picked up as conversations restated and the fiddles continued their tune.

 

            Kíli glanced sideways at his brother and grinned. "Careful, if Bard spots you looking at his daughter like that, Erebor will need to find another heir."

 

            "And another King." Fíli said absently.

 

            The grin slipped from Kíli's face. "What do you mean?"

 

Suddenly aware of what he had said, Fíli opened his mouth but he was saved from responding when Tauriel appeared at his side.

 

            "Fíli, Sigrid needs you to meet her at the Reading room, as soon as you can." She whispered.

 

            Kíli looked between the pair of them, now even more confused. "What's going on?" He asked warily.

 

            Fíli frowned at his brother. “This wasn’t arranged by you?”

 

Kíli shook his head.

 

            Tauriel looked over her shoulder. “Fíli there isn’t much time, you must to go now.”

 

            Fíli nodded, his eyes searching the crowd for Sigrid but not finding her. She must have already slipped away. "Thank you. Truly." He whispered back to Tauriel. Then he began to push through the crowd, leaving Kíli to look even more confused than before.

 

* * *

 

 

** Sacrifice **

 

**_ So Close - Jon McLaughlin _ **

_So close to reaching_  
That famous happy end.  
Almost believing  
This one's not pretend.  
And now you're beside me,  
And look how far we've come.  
So far we are. So close...

 

Sigrid sat by the light of a lantern at her usual book-laden desk in the Reading Hall with her head in her hands. The merry cacophony of laughter, music, and the chink of cutlery carried across the citadel and in through the high windows like a taunt.

 

A bitter tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away furiously.

 

She knew that her Da would call off the entire arrangement if she only said so. But Sigrid had grown up in the poverty caused by a selfish leader who chose his own desires of the needs of his people. Thorin had made it clear from the council meetings that Erebor could not offer Dale anything more to trade, so there was no question of even considering….

 

If Sigrid did not go through with this then it would be her people who would suffer. Her own father had given up much to be the leader their people needed.

 

Another tear ran down her cheek, and this time she didn't try to stop it as it fell and splattered upon the stone.

 

            "Tauriel said I would find you here."

 

Sigrid started and looked up. She had been too lost in her own thoughts to hear the door open.

 

Fíli stood there in the filtered moonlight, and her heart pounded against her ribs to see him.

 

_Why now did her heart rage and storm in its cage when he, the moon, could only bring her crashing onto the rocks?_

 

Quickly she stood and turned away as if to replace a book, but only to wipe away any trace of tears.

 

            She turned back around. "Are you enjoying the feast? I heard that the Pork was particularly good." She said in her best attempt at a cheerful voice.

 

            "I came to find you." He said simply, stepping towards her.

 

It took every ounce of her strength to pull away. Sigrid turned back towards the bookshelf, slowly replacing the books.

 

            "Sigrid?"

 

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the cool wood for a moment; needing him to disappear, yet wanting nothing more than to disappear into him.

 

            "Have I done something wrong...again?"

 

            With a strangled laugh she turned back to Fíli. "No, no it's not you..."

 

He stepped towards her, taking her hand.

 

Sigrid's breath caught in her throat.

 

            "Because you have done something to me." He said softly.

 

            "What do you mean?" She asked, watching the way their fingers intertwined, feeling the warmth of his hands in hers.

 

            "Well... I'm not really sure that I can explain it." He stammered.

 

Sigrid laughed despite herself, and a tender smile curled Fíli’s lips at the sound, his thumb ghosting across her knuckle.

 

            “You have no idea what you have done to me; just hearing you laugh is like..." He cast around for the right words.

 

Sigrid looked up and Fíli reached up to cup her cheek in his hand, tracing his thumb across her jaw as he looked into her eyes.

 

            "When I think about my world, my future ... I see you."

 

            She closed her eyes, fighting back tears with every ounce of strength she had. "Fíli..." She shook her head slowly, stepping backwards. "I- I can't." She stammered.

 

Fíli's hand fell from her cheek and the anguish on his face broke her heart more than words ever could. And Sigrid had to watch as the tenderness in his eyes was withdrawn behind a stone shield. "I'm sorry." He said gruffly. "I shouldn't have come." He turned to leave.

 

            She wanted to be stronger; she wanted to not be selfish. But the bitter truth was that her traitorous heart was waging a war against her. "Fíli, wait!" She cried out just before he reached the door.

 

            He whirled around. "I'm sorry!" He cried out. "I'm sorry for thinking this was something else, I'm sorry for thinking that you might..."

 

            "But I do." She called out. She was truly crying now, tears falling down her cheeks. "I do..."

 

He stared at her, the moonlight incandescent in her blazing eyes, eyes that stripped him utterly bare, then he picked that moment.

 

That moment to stride towards her.

 

That moment to take her face in his hands.

 

That moment of courage to press his lips against hers.

 

And Sigrid couldn’t fight herself anymore.

 

Her hands were tangled in his hair, capturing his mouth in hers as she pulled him closer and closer, as if she needed a part of him to breathe.

 

He could taste the salt of her tears as their tongues danced, and as he traced a thumb along her jaw he whispered her name against her lips, until he was lost in everything that was her.

 

            Pulling away to draw breath, his forehead resting against hers, he whispered; "We can figure this out. My uncle, your father, our people. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Together." He brushed away the tears that stained her beautiful face.

 

            But Sigrid found her own moment of courage, and she met his eyes sadly. "Fíli, I'm to be betrothed."

 

His hand fell numbly from the side of her face as he stepped backwards.

 

            "Dale needs me to forge an alliance, to buy what our gold cannot; to gain land that your uncle can’t give." Her lips trembled. "There's to be a ceremony where men from the most affluent cities will make offers. If the offer is high enough I can provide for my people and prevent the same thing from happening to Bain and Tilda."

 

Fíli was shaking his head, staring at her as if begging to be told it was a lie. But the agonising truth was right there in her eyes. He wanted to reach up and wipe away the furious tears that were falling steadily, but he couldn't do it, his arm hung limply by his side.

 

            "How long have you know?" He whispered hoarsely.

 

            "It was arranged months ago, but I found out they were coming five days ago."

 

            "So why didn't you tell me?" He cried.

 

            Sigrid wrung her hands. "Because five days ago I didn't know I would feel this way! Because five days ago I told myself it was for the best; I accepted it, and then … and then you happened!"

 

             “So this is the true game of Kings and Queens;” He asked sadly, a bitter tear spilling from his own eye. “To shed all selfish hopes and desires for the sake of our kingdoms?”

 

            “Yes.” She stepped towards him and reached up to brush away the tear just as he had done for her. “But that doesn’t mean that I love you any less.”

 

He closed his eyes and leant into the palm of her hand, feeling her forehead press against his one last time.

 

Then she was gone.

 

And although every fibre of his being wanted to chase after her, he couldn't do it. He was left alone in the empty library, the moon casting its light and illuminating the shadows of the tragic tale of Dale and Erebor.

 

 

 

It was a few hours later when Kíli found the solitary figure sitting atop the battlements of the outer wall in the darkness.

 

The figure looked up at the sound of the approaching footsteps, turning back to the desolate lands upon recognition and violently casting a stone out into the darkness.

 

            "Fí..." Kíli reached out a hand to his brother's form, but it fell uselessly back to his side.

 

Meanwhile, the sound of the festivities echoed through the night.

 

            "Tauriel knew, didn't she?"

 

            "She told me as soon as you left." Kíli affirmed dismally. 

 

Fíli said nothing and Kíli took up a seat beside him.

 

            “Is there no other way?” Kíli asked softly.

 

Fíli bit his lip and shook his head.

 

            “Maybe we should leave tonight?” Kíli suggested. “Go West for a while, until after…”

 

            Fíli laid a grateful hand upon his brother’s arm but shook his head. “I need to be there when it happens; I need to know…”

 

            “You will return for the betrothal?”

 

Fíli nodded.

 

            Kíli squeezed his brother’s hand. “Then I will be there with you.”

 

They gazed out towards the Lake in silence, watching the way the water glimmered and shone. Water whose fathoms hid the bones of a dragon.

 

            "Do you ever wish we never joined the quest?" Fíli asked quietly, launching another stone from the wall.

 

Kíli turned to him sadly. What could he say? That of course he was glad he did, or else he would never have met Tauriel. But then he might never have to face their separation every other day. So instead he took up a stone of his own and launched it into the darkness, because sometimes silence is the only balm for gut-wrenching misery.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Bilbo Baggins… “I’m going on an adventure!”  
> I will reply to all of your wonderful comments soon (Yay free WiFi) so keep them coming (including the ones such as “WHY!!!!” and “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE IT THERE!” and “YOU ARE A MONSTER!”)  
> Back in two and a bit weeks!  
> Mont Girl of Lumatere xxx


	13. Markings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Merry Christmas!  
> 2\. Happy New Year!!  
> 3\. Please forgive me for posting a cliff-hanger chapter and then disappearing for over a month!!!  
> 4\. Enjoy this next chapter and thank you ever so much for all your comments, kudos, subscriptions, and most importantly for reading.

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

**_"Let Her Go" - Passenger_ **

_'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low_   
_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_   
_Only know you love her when you let her go_   
_Only know you've been high when you're feeling low_   
_Only hate the road when you're missing home_   
_Only know you love her when you let her go_   
_And you let her go_

 

* * *

 

 

Fíli turned his back on Dale and returned to Erebor that very night.

 

Kíli was to tell Thorin and anyone who enquired that his brother’s old injury was troubling him. Since they were to be leaving Dale the very next morning Fíli’s absence would surely go unnoticed… at least, by most.

 

Kíli watched dismally from atop the rebuilt stone battlements as the lone ram and its traveller slowly trekked their way along the moonlit path between Dale and the Erebor.

 

            "What are you thinking?" Tauriel asked, stepping up beside him as swift and silent as the night breeze.

 

            Kíli swallowed. "He told me Thorin will abdicate in five years, and that when he is King..." He looked up at Tauriel. "He will give his blessing for us to marry."

 

            Tauriel's eyes widened and she looked to the lone figure on the Mountain path. "He would risk that; your brother would risk a revolt against his Kingship, for us?" She breathed.

 

            "Yes. But he won't do the same for himself!" Kíli cursed, slamming his fist against the cold stone and wincing as pain shot through his hand. But he did not care. “It shouldn’t have to be like this.”

 

But alas, he knew it had to be so. Should Fíli declare himself and ask Sigrid to be his wife and Queen, it would be considered tantamount to the dissolution of the Line of Durin. For as much as the Dwarf families were loyal to their kin, they were also fiercely proud of their lineage.

 

            "Those who might revolt; these are the same kin who would not stand behind your uncle when he set out to reclaim the Mountain?" Tauriel mused.

 

            "It was a fool’s gamble." Kíli reasoned. Then at length, he stared at her. "What are _you_ thinking?" He asked cautiously, almost hopefully; because Tauriel's brow was furrowed as she bit her lip in thought.

 

            "I'm thinking that if Thranduil needed the approval of someone whom he felt owed him a debt, he would tell them precisely what he wanted and why they ought to provide it."

 

            Kíli frowned. "Blackmail?"

 

            "I believe he phrased it as 'Persuasion'," Tauriel amended.  "but yes; blackmail."

 

Kíli bit his lip and gazed, unseeing, across the fertile land between the kingdoms, his mind racing _. It was a reckless idea, a dangerous idea. He would need help; there was much he did not know, intricate details that needed to be negotiated from all sides. But Thorin must not know; nobody else could know. But there was one person who might be able to help him..._

 

            Tauriel looked sideways at Kíli, frowning slightly. "Did you ask me to marry you just before?"

 

            Kíli turned towards her, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I promise you, Amrâlimê, that when I ask you to marry me properly, you will be in no doubt of what I am asking." He pressed his lips to her pale hands. "And when I do marry you, we will stand on high, just as we are now, and I will kiss my bride for all the world to see."

 

            Tauriel bent her head towards his as he reached up to cup her face in his hands. "I think you’re forgetting," she murmured, her eyes closed as his lips brushed against hers. "I haven't said yes..."

 

            “Well, in that case.” Kíli made to step away, but Tauriel grinned and pulled him back to her.

 

            "Yet," And she kissed him there atop the battlements for all the stars to see.

 

 

 

The Final Feast had ended and the guests had long since returned to their warm beds for the night, their dreams filled with the contented joy of sumptuous food and the melodies of the dances. So it was quite a shock for Bain when Kíli fell through the window of his second-floor chamber.

 

Half an hour later the shock still hadn't quite worn off, but the young heir of Dale listened intently to what the Prince of Erebor had to say. When Kíli had finished his piece, Bain stood and held out a hand in friendship, both pledging then and there to do whatever it took.

 

Neither got any sleep that night but by the time the sun had risen there were six scrolls tied with different coloured ribbons being secured to the legs of the strongest and fastest messenger birds of Dale. The Heir and the Prince stood together at the tower window in the light of the dawn with looks of grim determination on their faces.

 

            “What if they don’t all make it in time?” Bain asked.

 

            Kíli’s eyes fixed upon a soaring speck in the distance disappear over the Eastern rises. “We don’t need _all_ of them to return in time, just the red one.”

 

Bain nodded. Now, all they could do was wait.

 

 

In the days that followed the departure of the Elves and Dwarves, it seemed that a melancholy had settled over Dale. The people had become accustomed to their guests and the increased bustle they brought to the streets, it was a reminder of days gone by when Laketown had overflowed with life.

 

Naturally, the unexpected arrival of the company of men from the West, and the announcement of Lady Sigrid's impending betrothal was one thing to celebrate, but the people of Dale could not bring themselves to truly rejoice in the thought of losing their Princess to another Kingdom. When the newcomers passed through the streets to peruse the market produce, eyes scoured them and critical opinions were exchanged in whispers behind hands. The whisperers were also quick to point out that although the Lady Sigrid gave every outward appearance of cordial hospitality, her smile never quite reached her eyes. They speculated, of course, and some came close to the truth; that another had claimed the heart of their Princesses. But why then, they wondered, was this suitor not in contention for her hand?

 

Sigrid heard nothing of these whispers, busying herself with any means of labour in the village she could find, dining with her family and suitors during the evening, and then retiring to the Reading Hall at night to continue her transcriptions.

 

She wondered if perhaps she might catch a glimpse of Fíli when a company of the men of Dale met with the Dwarves in the outer fields to break ground on the new irrigation system. But there was no head of golden hair amongst them, and Sigrid knew that to hope would only make the pain worse.

 

 

On the eve of the betrothal, Bain watched the eastern skies for a sign of any hope to be had. Yet when the blue of the day faded to a deep crimson without a speck of black against it, he had to turn away.

 

It was Tilda who sought out her older sister and confronted her that night. She too had watched and waited; Waited for somebody to speak out, for somebody to do something. But she had done so in vain until she could wait no more.

 

            Tilda marched with single-minded determination to Sigrid's chamber and without bothering to knock, she barged in. "I'm going to tell Da." She declared to the room at large.

 

Sigrid looked up and the seamstress paused in the act of sewing the bodice of her betrothal dress for the following day; the sharp silver needle hovering in the air.

 

Tilda folded her arms until with an air of resignation Sigrid dismissed the curious seamstress from her quarters and beckoned Tilda to stand at her side before the long-mirror.

 

The dress was a thing of beauty. It hung in folds of emerald brocade from her slender shoulders, exposing the shape protuberance of Sigrid's collar bone and finishing in long flowing sleeves. The bodice clung tightly to her form and was sprinkled with minuscule pearls that had been plucked from the shores of the Lake and embroidered into the fabric. It was ironic that on any other day Tilda would have moaned with jealousy at the sight of such a dress, but on this day she saw only shackles.

 

            "Da won't let you go through with it once he knows." Tilda said once the chamber door had closed.

 

            Sigrid sighed. "Tilda, there is nothing he could do. I'm a woman, a princess; this is my duty. Da knows this. If you told him what I... telling him would only make him feel powerless." She turned away to tie off the loose thread.

 

            "I don't believe that!" Tilda insisted, stepping up beside her and grabbing her sister's hand. "Fíli himself could make an offer."

 

            Sigrid bit her lip and shook her head sadly. "Tilda, he can't, it's just not possible."

 

            Tilda stepped backwards, dropping her sister's hand, and there was such pity in her eyes, such disappointment, that it made Sigrid's stomach twist. "What happened to you, Sig? You used to fight for the things that mattered to you. You fought to be accepted on the Council. You stood up and made people listen to what you had to say, and you never let the fact that you are a girl stop you. Damn it, Sigrid, you have spent your entire life fighting for this family! Why won’t you fight for yourself now?"

 

            "I am fighting!" The words came out a strangled cry as Sigrid whirled around to face her sister, the dress swishing heavily in her wake. "I am fighting with everything I have so that in a few years you and Bain won't be forced into my place, that's why. I'm fighting for you!"

 

            Tilda just stared at her and there was something close to disgust on her face. "No, you’re not fighting, Sigrid. You're being a martyr."

 

            Sigrid stepped towards her sister. "Not every fight can be fought with a sword or and arrow, Tilda. But I will make the same choice every single time if it means you don't have to." And she put her arms around her younger sister and held her tightly.

 

And life went on.

 

 

 

For his part, Fíli had thrown himself into coordinating Erebor's contribution to the plans that he and Sigrid had devised together. He was the first to arrive in the Erebor Council Chambers each morning and the last to leave in the evening, devoting himself entirely to the process of designing the irrigation tunnels and the tools to build them.

 

One particular evening when his chambers were too quiet and his mind was too loud, he had gone to the Smithing Halls. Dwalin was there, as he always was, sharpening his axes along the whetstone with methodical precision; a task he entrusted to no one else.

 

They acknowledged each other with a nod, but both seemed to understand that the other sought only silence.

 

The heat radiated from the great forges, casting a red glow about the room as Fíli took up a hammer and began to strike.

 

_'Do you believe in a One?'_

_'Yes, I do.'_

 

The crash of the hammer against iron echoed around the Hall.

 

_'That doesn’t mean that I love you any less.’_

 

He brought the hammer down again, and again.

 

_The feel of her lips on his, the taste of her, the way she had held onto him as if she never wanted to let go._

 

Sparks flew as metal met metal and the hammer almost went flying with the force.

 

Fíli slumped against the wall, sweat dripping from his forehead with the overworked metal twisted and wrangled on the anvil before him.

 

He looked up to see Dwalin watching him silently, patiently, as if he knew. But of course, if anyone would know it would be Dwalin; Dwalin who had found his One in the Princess Dís only for her to have found her One in another.

 

The Warrior stood silently and beckoned for the Prince to follow him.

 

            Down a corridor they went, taking a route that was unfamiliar to Fíli. When they reached a closed door, Dwalin turned around. "There’s no use in tryin’ to forget, lad. None. So you make certain that you remember." He lifted a sleeve to reveal inked markings that Fíli had never seen before; a name. The name of Dwalin's One. He let the sleeve fall down so that only the inking across his knuckles and forearms were visible. "Then ya find something else ta serve." Fíli's eyes followed the traced and scarred etchings of battle cries.

 

So that night, Fíli got his first markings, high on the back of his neck on the skin normally covered by his hair. One was the word for King, and above it was his word for Queen.  _Sigrid._

 

And life went on.

 

 

The day of the betrothal crept closer and closer but still no Raven returned, and Kíli was almost ready to believe that all was lost.

 

It wasn't until the very morning of the betrothal that he gave up and readied himself to follow Fíli, who had left early, and join his brother in Dale as he promised. He was just pulling on his boots when he heard hurried footsteps at his door and a sharp knocking.

 

            "What?" He called out, dispiritedly.

 

            "A Raven, you Highness." A voice answered.

 

Kíli's heart jumped into to his throat and he launched himself across the room to throw open the door.

 

            "What colour?" He demanded.

 

The messenger frowned. "Black."

 

            “Not the raven, you sod!” Kíli cried. “What colour was the ribbon tied to its foot?

 

            “Red.”

 

A smile broke across Kíli’s face

 

            "That's not all, My Lord." The messenger called as Kíli began to sprint down the corridor. "A visitor came back with it. They’re all waiting for you in the Hall of Kings."

 

Kíli stopped dead in his tracks.

 

This was either excellent news or terrible news. Either way, he was about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose the location of Fili's tattoo on the basis that the fandom has decided that braiding/touching hair is very intimate to dwarves, so only a loved one would be able to see it. Thus, in choosing that location it became a vow that even if Fili wed another, he had already given that part of himself to Sigrid.


	14. Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to:  
> inheritanceofgeek, Book_of_Kells, Blueskydancers, Maggiemaye, Jffermac, snowbirdrose, Mildly_Neurotic, Vana, M, Sajean13, mjeanuniverse, FalcaPeregrina, queenmidalah, RomanLizzy, Cassidy_And_The_Company, helia, GeekyFandomWriter, , Smartina, yawningmicrobe, MoonlightRurouni, nienna87, FoolishPhilosopher, Kendiemoore, Taigatora (tigress123), sojannadagnir, thedairycow, IDreamInColor, Bluebird11, RosiG12, Iron_Bound, acyt, islndgurl777, kamilitchan, grantitty, Thorins_mistress, Right_2_Left, Marindamar, ShadowSpark, IzziRebels, Kitrazzle, ChibiMethos, LoviSobakunorozu, Wysterias5, Caitidid19, MllelaPiquante, MsLusifer, , Applindy, Belelaith, CDawn03, EnchantedFeathers, rubymoon84, winter_rogue, Yaoilover_89, Ruairi, aranelmereneth, Jillamy, foxtail, purajobot935, jewel17, Snarky_Chemist, 5foot4hobbit, BiteSizeOreo, LunnarChild, Nevrosiel, Monsan, SkaianDreamer, fidelishadows, qistina, gwionfawyr, DanteOphydian, Paraphfernalia, CatSuperstar, , Arken_Stone1, whizzy, sugerchoco, TexannaRose, Filithecat (CartierBailey), blogginshield, and the 159 guests who have left kudos.  
> Because without your support this story would not exist.  
> Love, Mont Girl of Lumatere  
> xxx

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**Dare You To Move** \- Switchfoot_

_Welcome to the planet_  
Welcome to existence  
Everyone's here  
Everyone's here  
Everybody's watching you now  
Everybody waits for you now  
What happens next  
What happens next  
  
I dare you to move  
I dare you to move  
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor  
I dare you to move  
I dare you to move  
Like today never happened  
Today never happened before  
  
Welcome to the fallout  
Welcome to resistance  
The tension is here  
Tension is here  
Between who you are and who you could be  
Between how it is and how it should be  
  
Maybe redemption has stories to tell  
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell  
Where can you run to escape from yourself?  
Where you gonna go?  
Where you gonna go?  
Salvation is here

 

* * *

 

 

On the day that King Bard was to hear marriage requests for his oldest daughter, Prince Fíli sat atop the barbican of the Dale gatehouse with Bain and Aeron, the three of them staring down at every potential suitor who arrived in the citadel. Each candidate had brought with them an entourage purposed to impress, and Fíli’s heart sank with every step they took closer to Sigrid.

 

            “The Dorwinions.” Bain said sombrely, indicating the procession crossing the bridge with great ceremony.

 

            “They say that he could be the one;” Fíli said glumly. “The Second Lord to the Rhûn Province.”

 

            “Why?” Aeron asked.

 

            “Political strategy.” Bain replied knowledgeably. “They have the most to offer.”

 

Fíli watched the Second Dorwinion Lord as he swung off his horse, noting the covetous glint of heavily hooded eyes as the young man surveyed the city, and Fíli felt a sick twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach.

 

            Bain glanced down at the bow and quiver of arrows that leant against the barbican wall. “Would be a shame if one of my arrows found its way between the Dorwinion’s legs, accidents do happen…”

 

            “You’d start a war with one of your most valued potential trading partners, Bain.” Fíli explained wearily.  “Perhaps not the best plan.”

 

Bain sighed and they all knew the words that lay unspoken; any plan was better than nothing.

 

 

            “Why did you stay, Fíli?” Aeron begged to know as they made their way up to the Great Hall.

 

            Fíli watched the crowds milling about on their way to watch the ceremony, the throngs of people from Dale and beyond who had come to see this momentous day. “Because I don’t think I could bear for her to be alone today.” He answered quietly.

 

 

Once they were inside the Great Hall, there was scarcely any room to breathe, let alone move, but Fíli and Aeron found themselves a position close to the back. Bain had to leave them then to stand by his father’s side but gave Fíli’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze before they parted.

 

Suddenly Fíli felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned sharply, half expecting to be asked what he was doing there. But when he turned he saw Tauriel beside them. “I thought you would be on watch at the gate.” He remarked.

 

            “I traded with one of the other guards.” Tauriel replied. “Besides, when Thranduil marched through the gates, I knew I had to see this through.”

 

             “Kíli didn’t come with you by any chance?” Fíli asked, glancing hopefully about for his brother.

 

Tauriel shook her head, looking disappointed.

 

            Fíli turned properly to look at Tauriel. “I meant to thank you, for giving Sigrid and I the chance…” he swallowed. “I’m grateful that I found out from her.”

 

            She looked sadly down at Fíli. “Sigrid won’t want you here, Fíli.” She said softly. “This will be too painful for you both.”

 

            “I won’t let her see me, but I need to be here.” He said simply, turning back to the front.

 

Legolas slipped through the crowd to join Tauriel. However, upon seeing her companions he hesitated, unsure whether he belonged among them. But Tauriel greeted him with a half-smile and Legolas stepped forwards, giving a curt nod in the direction of Fíli and Aeron.

 

Fíli returned the gesture.

 

            Aeron pointedly ignored it, remembering all too keenly that it had been Legolas’s father who had wanted him imprisoned. “Are you here to propose to Sigrid too?” the lad asked sharply.

 

             “Definitely not.” Legolas scoffed. “I’m only here because her choice will affect the trade the Woodland Realm has access to.”

 

            “This doesn’t feel like a choice.” Tauriel said quietly, looking around at the crowded room.

 

Various processions made their way through the jostling crowd. Some sported ornately spun banners, with others had brought bushels of fine fruits and spiced wines that laced the air with their subtle enticement.

 

            “My father believes the Dorwinion Lord will win the day.” Legolas remarked to Tauriel as the procession made their way forward.

 

            “So I heard.” Tauriel replied darkly.

 

            “He’s an ideal match, according to my father; heir to the most bountiful Dorwinion province, and utterly brainless.”

 

            “Yes, years of drinking Dorwinion wine has that effect.” Fíli muttered pointedly under his breath.

 

Aeron and Tauriel snorted.

 

            Suddenly Bain was with them again. “Is your brother still not here?” he asked Fíli, puffed with the effort of squeezing through the swarming crowd.

 

            “No. Why, has something happened?”

 

            “The Master of Laketown has put his son, Roland, forward.”

 

            “What did your father say?” Fíli asked urgently.

 

            “Actually it was Sigrid who shot them down before Da could. She said that on no account would she marry someone who didn’t know the difference between flattery and kissing ass.”

 

This time they all snorted.

 

            “Well she didn’t phrase it quite like that, but that’s what she meant.” Bain amended.

 

            “Smart girl.” Legolas remarked appreciatively.

 

They watched as another procession made their way forwards.

 

            “I wish we were closer to the front.” Aeron said, standing on his tiptoes. “I can’t hear anything from here.”

 

The crowd suddenly surged forwards. There seemed to be a commotion at the entrance and they could hear distant shouting. Bain was gone again in an instant.

 

            “Probably the Rohirrim trying to bring one of their horses into the hall.” Legolas muttered.

 

The noise at the entrance was getting louder, yet at the front of the hall, people appeared oblivious to the disturbance at the back.

 

            “There’s something happening back there.” Tauriel said, craning her neck as her hand slipped ever so subtly to the daggers concealed at her hip. Then her eyes grew very wide.

 

            “What is it?” Fíli asked urgently.

 

            “Fíli,” Tauriel said calmly. “Does your mother bear a striking resemblance to your brother, but scowls like your uncle?”

 

            Fíli’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes.”

 

            “Well, I believe that your mother has just marched her way into this hall.”

 

            “ _What?”_

 

Fíli span around and leapt upon a stool he had spied leaning against the wall. But even with his head above the throngs, he could see nothing other than a very irate crowd being pushed forwards.

 

And then Fíli saw his mother.

 

And Kíli.

 

And Dwalin and Balin.

 

And Thorin.

 

The five of them were attempting to search above the heads of those around them.

 

_Mahal!_

 

 _“Here!”_ Fíli shouted, holding up a hand. _“Kíli!”_

 

The arrival of the party from Erebor had managed to cause a small riot near the entrance and the din swallowed up his call. Meanwhile the onlookers around Fíli grumbled.

 

            “We can’t hear a thing, you fool.” One snapped.

 

Tauriel glared daggers at the woman as Fíli clambered back down.

 

            “What’s happening?” Aeron called out, jumping up and down to catch a glimpse.

 

            “Your mother appears to be leading a charge to the front.” Legolas remarked to Fíli with interest. “I think she may have just broken a man’s arm.”

 

Fíli barrelled forwards through the crowd. Close to the entrance he hit a wall of a man determined not to let Fíli pass in his own quest to push further forward. Until a muscular elbow jabbed itself into the man’s side and shoved him out of the way.

 

            “Amad?” Fíli gasped. “What are you doing here?”

 

Dís pulled her oldest son into a crushing embrace.

 

 Tauriel, Legolas, and Aeron followed in awe as Thorin pushed his way through to join them, dressed in his regal garb and with the crown of Erebor on his head. Dís released Fili and rounded on him.

 

            “You,” She jabbed a finger at her brother. “Hand over that cloak.” She ordered.

 

            “Wh- No!” Thorin spluttered.

 

            Dís glared at her brother. “If the stories I’ve heard about the damage you inflicted upon the heads of my infant sons when I had entrusted them to your care are true, then you’re lucky that a cape is all I’m taking.”

 

When Thorin was still too slow, Kíli was there, yanking Thorin’s cloak from his back.

 

Then he saw Balin and Dwalin. Dwalin forging a path through the crowd while Balin followed in his wake, his head bowed as he hurriedly riffled through a pile of haphazardly stacked scrolls.

 

And just when Fíli thought nothing could shock him more, he felt a cuffing blow to his back and turned to see Dain by his side.

 

            “Dain! What are you doing here?” He gasped, taking in his regal travelling clothes.

 

            “When yar brother over there sent me that Raven, I had ta’ come and see this for myself. It’s not every day you’re asked to pledge your support to the betrothal of a future King.” He grinned at the look on Fíli’s face.

 

            Fíli turned in bewilderment to Kíli. But Kíli just grinned wickedly as he finished pinning the ornate cape in place of Fíli’s travel coat. “Follow everything I say, brother, and let me do the talking. There’s no time for an explanation. Do you trust me?”

 

            Fíli swallowed. “With my life.”

 

Then Thorin stepped forward and placed the King’s crown on Fíli’s head, and Fíli could only stare at him.

 

            “We didn’t have time to fetch yours.” Kíli explained.

 

            But Fíli was looking at Thorin. “Uncle, I can’t. What will our people say?”

 

            “They will rejoice, for they will behold the promise of years to come in the days of their future King.” Thorin gripped Fíli’s arm tight and pressed his forehead to Fíli’s. “And the line of Durin will know no greater pride. I just wish you had told me this is what you wanted.”

 

Words utterly failed Fíli.

 

            “Yes, yes,” Dís chivvied, pushing Fíli forward as she fussed over his hair. “We’ll have time for eighty-five years of repressed sentiment later!”

 

 

The path through the crowds to the front seemed never ending.

 

            “Excuse us.”

 

            “Out of the way!”

 

            “Move or I’ll cut ya down to stumps!”

 

There was shoving and cursing and Fíli’s heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t dare hope. He couldn’t let himself hope…

 

Dís was swatting at the dirt on Kíli’s face while Dwalin and Thorin were muscling their way to the front. Fíli fell into step beside Balin as the old dwarf huffed along behind them.

 

            “We’d barely had breakfast when your brother charged into the Halls with Dain in tow, demanding that we all head for Dale that moment. I hardly had time to grab the paperwork.” Balin complained.

 

            Fili glanced over his shoulder at the continued sounds of distant shouting coming from outside the Hall doors. “Who else is here?”

 

            “Most of Erebor decided to come along once they heard.” Balin explained, squinting at the scrawled writing of a particular scroll. “Took quite something to convince them all to wait outside.”

 

But Fíli did not have time to respond to this as they burst from the crowd and stumbled to a standstill, facing the shocked faces of Bard, Thranduil, the Lords of Dale, and the Lady Sigrid who had suddenly become very pale.

 

There was furious whispering all around, them like many small hissing fires.

 

            “It’s the King of Erebor, and the heir wearing the King’s crown!”

           

            “No!” another replied.

 

            “It is!”

 

Kíli winked discreetly at Bain, who seemed to be wrestling with himself not to punch the air in victory.

 

            Bard was the first regain himself. “King Thorin. We did not expect to receive you again so soon.”

 

            “Neither did I.” Thorin replied in his usual terse manner.

 

            Kíli elbowed Thorin, who sighed and cleared his throat. “King Bard of Dale, today I, Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin’s Folk and King under the Mountain, present Fíli, eldest of my sister’s sons and heir to the Kingdom Erebor, as a prospective husband for your daughter, the Princess Sigrid of Dale.”

 

Fíli was speechless. He felt sick… and terribly, terribly hopeful.

 

            “Don’t you dare faint.” His mother whispered into his ear.

 

Fíli’s eyes found Sigrid’s and held them with his own. It was all he could do to keep himself upright. To look into her eyes, furrowed in shock and confusion, and hope that they spoke what he could not; _I’m here and I will never leave._

 

“You cannot be serious?” Spoke the man that Fíli knew to be the Second Lord of Dorwinion. “No Dwarf has ever married outside of their race, let alone a future King!”

 

            “Preposterous.” Agreed one of his entourage.

 

            “And yet,” Kíli spread his arms wide. “Here we are."

 

The Hall had fallen silent as the announcement of the latest arrival had filtered from ear to ear. Everyone was straining to hear what was being said.

 

            “I was not aware that an invitation was extended to Erebor to submit a proposal.” Thranduil spoke from where he stood beside the raised dais.

 

            “I was not aware you had extended the invitations?” Kíli quipped smoothly.

 

The nearby crowd tittered and Dain guffawed loudly.

 

            Kíli turned to Bard. “My Lord Bard, we come before you in the spirit of friendship, will you cast us out before hearing our proposal?”

 

            Bard blinked. “Well… no. Of course not.” He sat back down, still looking somewhat at a loss. “Proceed.” He gestured.

 

            “Louder!” Someone called from the back of the hall. “We can’t hear.”

 

            Balin hurriedly passed a document to Kíli who began to read it aloud in a clear and carrying voice. “With the support of Lord Dain of the Iron Hills, and the Line of Durin secured through the succession of his heirs, we make this proposal;” Dain puffed out his chest and glared around at the crowd as if daring anyone to challenge his loyalty. “In return for the betrothal of the Princess Sigrid, daughter of King Bard of Dale, to Prince Fíli, Heir to the throne of Erebor, we offer the ongoing benevolence between our kingdoms, _and_ the use of the lands between Dale and the gate of Erebor.”

 

            Fíli shook his head in disbelief. “One moment!” he called out, pulling Thorin aside. There was some noise of irritation from the crowd, particularly from the Dorwinion party.

 

            “You said it yourself;” Fíli whispered, to Thorin. “That land was hard fought and hard won, we cannot give it away. I’m not worth that.”

 

            “You’re worth a kingdom.” Thorin replied, turning back to Kíli and gesturing for him to continue.

 

            Kíli turned to the crowd, knowing that he had a better chance of impressing them. “We offer the Kingdom of Dale the fertile lands of the valley that separate our two people.”

 

There was a hushed silence. The people of Dale knew what access to such land would mean for them; the land sheltered by the mountain would see them through the harshest of winters, would provide them with a trade throughout the years. The land was invaluable.

 

            “You would offer us that land?” Bard asked into the sudden silence.

 

            “With a stipulation.” said Thorin.

 

            “Naturally.” Thranduil scoffed.

 

            “Shut yar bloody trap, nobody was talkin’ to you!” Roared Dain.

 

That got the crowd smirking again.

 

            “We stipulate that the land be tilled solely by the men and women of Dale until such time as the irrigation project restores their own fields. Upon this first ample harvest all discussions as to its continued use will be presided over by a duly appointed joint council.” Kíli answered. “And we shall name it the Valley of Sigrid, for _both_ shall be at the heart of the union between our two people.”

 

His proclamation was met with a radiant smile from Sigrid.

 

            “That lad has a tongue for political negotiation.” Balin said in a proud undertone.

 

            “If that is what you call _manipulation and secrecy_.” Thorin muttered.

 

Fili watched Bard. He could see the decision playing itself out in the King’s mind; to accept the offer of fertile land from Erebor or the guarantee of trade with the Dorwinions.

 

            Fíli gathered his courage and stepped forward, speaking quietly to Bard alone. “My Lord Bard, I cannot promise you that the land we offer will yield better than what you could gain from the Dorwinion trade. I cannot even promise you that the future will bring only years of peace and prosperity between our people. But I can promise you that I will love your daughter until the last breath leaves my body.”

 

Bard’s eyes narrowed and then widened with a sudden look of shocked comprehension.

 

            “Forgive my insensitivity.” Thranduil Interjected. “But the Dwarf Prince will outlive the Princess by many years. To permit such a union would be to doom your daughter to an unkind fate.”

 

This truth brought a mixture of angry hisses and solemn head nodding from the crowd.

 

Fíli saw Sigrid swallow as her eyes fall to the floor, and his heart burned with anger to hear them discuss the inevitability of Sigrid’s death in front of her.

 

 _Don’t listen to them._ He begged her silently, wishing he could lift her chin and banish that pain. _Nothing else matters but you and me._

 

Somewhere on the periphery of his attention he heard Thorin swear and he sensed Dain start forwards towards the Elvenking, only to be held back by Dwalin’s muscular arm across his chest.

 

But Fíli kept his eyes on Sigrid, waiting. And as if sensing him, Sigrid lifted her head and met his eyes.

 

_How many times could she steal his breath away? How many times could he find himself captivated by her strength?_

 

            “Did you love your wife, Thranduil?” Dís called loudly over the noise.

 

            Thranduil’s eyes narrowed and he stood swiftly. “Why would you question such a thing?”

 

            “The pain of that loss never leaves you, does it? My Víli still visits me in my dreams, yet each morning when I wake I am forced to confront a world without him.”  Fíli reached out a hand to his mother, the strongest person he had ever known. Dís looked sadly into his eyes as she spoke. “I would give all the gold in the land if it would mean that my son never has to know this pain. But to never have had such joy would be an altogether worse fate, I’m sure you would agree.” She turned back to Thranduil. “We do not regret the love we lost, only the love we never had.”

 

Fíli squeezed his mother’s hand as the crowd whispered and nodded in assent.

 

            “No,” Bard said quietly. “We never regret that love.”

 

Thranduil did not speak, but sat again as Legolas came to stand beside his father and the Dorwinions.

 

            “Wait a moment!” The Second Lord of Dorwinion stepped forwards. “Why submit your daughter to this pain when I can offer her a life of happiness, and your people a life of plenty?”

 

            “Who says that you can offer her happiness?” Kíli asked politely.

 

The Second Lord of Dorwinion and his companions spluttered in outrage.

 

            “It seems to me that all you and your kin have to offer anyone is Wine.” Kíli continued. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. In fact, if we can conclude things here swiftly, I would be very interested in discussing an increase of supplies to Erebor.”

 

The crowd chuckled. They liked the Raven-haired Prince.

 

            Amidst the clamour, Bard turned to Sigrid and spoke so only she could hear. “My darling daughter, this is _your_ choice; as it always has been. And there is nothing more a King or a Kingdom could ask from their Princess that you have not already given. But as your father, I have one last request; that you make this choice for the right reasons.” He looked at her earnestly. “Are you ready?”

 

            Sigrid looked out at the sea of upturned faces awaiting her decision and then back at her father with a smile. “I am.”

 

Fíli watched Sigrid. Always he would look to her because somewhere along the way his very being had become fused with hers, and it seemed to him that he had one more thing he needed to say.

 

            “My Lord Bard, may I have a moment to speak with your daughter?” he called out.

 

            There was instant discord from the Dorwinions. The Second Lord was halfway through loudly denouncing the unfairness of such a proposition when his words twisted into a cry of pain. Legolas could be heard profusely apologising for _accidentally_ stomping on his foot.

 

At a nod from Bard, Fíli leapt upon the dais and took Sigrid’s hand in his.

 

            “Is this what you want?” He asked in a whisper, conscious of all the eyes and ears focused on them.

 

            “It is everything I want.” She whispered back, holding fast to his hand.

 

            His heart soared in his chest. “Then do you mind if I ask you a question?”

 

            Sigrid frowned. “Now?”

 

            “This may be the only chance I get.” He whispered nodding towards all the people watching them intently.

 

            She smiled and looked back at him. “Go ahead.”

 

            So Fíli reached up and tenderly cupped her face in his hand, tracing his finger along her jaw. “Sigrid, my One, will you be my wife?”

 

A smile spread across her face and tears of joy welled up in her eyes.

 

            “He ought not to touch our Princess in such a way.” Someone in the crowd called out.

 

“What did he say to her?” Another cried out.

 

            “I think he just asked her to be his wife!”

 

But Fíli and Sigrid ignored them all; they had eyes only for each other.

 

And then, because words simply were not enough, Sigrid threw her arms around Fíli and captured his mouth in hers.

 

There was a great cacophony of noise from the crowd and those outside.  The disappointment from Thranduil and the Dorwinion party utterly drowned out in the cheering and stomping from the people of Dale and the present Dwarves of Erebor.

 

            Then Sigrid pulled away from his lips, her forehead resting against his. “Yes. I will be your wife.” She whispered, her voice trembling with restrained euphoria.

 

Amidst the cheers and the shouting Fíli brought his lips back to hers, pulling away only to laugh as he lifted her by the waist and span her around, her hair tumbling down in waves over her shoulders and cocooning them in their own world.

 

Neither of them heard Bard declare the proceedings concluded, they did no hear Bain and Kíli cheering louder than the rest, and neither of them saw the Dorwinions attempt to storm from the hall. But there would be time for talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe a lot of the inspiration for this Chapter to Chapter 49 of Melina Marchetta's Quintana of Charyn, Book 3 of the Lumatere Chronicles. DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND GO READ THAT SERIES RIGHT NOW!


	15. Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Guess What! Some very talented individuals have devised a brilliant and cunning plan: Figrid February!  
> It will be a fantastic opportunity to celebrate this little ship and to get it sailing strong with prompts for each week to get you inspired:
> 
> "Week 1 (February 1 - February 7) is all about Royal Life!  
> One or both of our darlings are some sort of royalty. This can be anything from your classic Everybody Lives situation to a Princess Bride!AU to a Princess Diaries!AU. Your prompts this week are:  
> Monday, Feb 1 - Balls/Gatherings  
> Tuesday, Feb 2 - Courting Procedures  
> Wednesday, Feb 3 - Council Meetings  
> Thursday, Feb 4 - Opposing Ideologies  
> Friday, Feb 5 - Diplomatic Missions  
> Saturday, Feb 6 - Reluctant Royalty  
> Sunday, Feb 7 - Public Reaction  
> Or if these aren’t calling your name, try a Bonus Prompt!  
> Assassins! Are they assassins? Or are they targets? Your choice!  
> Battle Goats! Mother. Fucking. Battle Goats. Need we say more?"
> 
> So whatever you have, be it fics, songs/playlists, edits, headcanon, metta, RP requests- anything at all just tag it with “Figrid Febuary” and the captains over at http://fyeahfigrid.tumblr.com/ will reblog it for all to see and admire.
> 
> You don't even have to base your contribution off of original material if that's easier! I would be perfectly happy (read: over the moon) if you felt inspired by this fic!
> 
> PS: You can find me on tumblr at http://montgirloflumatere.tumblr.com/
> 
> xxx  
> Mont Girl of Lumatere

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

_**I Choose You** \- Sara Bareilles _

_There was a time when I would have believed them_  
If they told me you could not come true  
Just love's illusion  
But then you found me and everything changed  
And I believe in something again  
  
My whole heart  
Will be yours forever  
This is a beautiful start  
To a lifelong love letter  
  
Tell the world that we finally got it all right  
I choose you  
I will become yours and you will become mine  
I choose you  


 

* * *

 

 

Later, Dís called for a feast to be held that very evening, and so set to ordering the Men and Dwarves alike to the task.

 

Bard watched with pride from across the Hall as Sigrid spoke animatedly with Dain, and then his eyes followed to where her hand linked with Fíli’s. He watched as every so often Fíli would give her hand a gentle squeeze, or Sigrid would brush her thumb along his knuckles, and a deep grimace settled across Bard’s face. They seemed so at ease, so attuned to each other.

 

Bard reached out and caught Bain’s arm as he passed by.

 

            “Bain, all that time they were together, drafting the proposal, did they-” Through gritted teeth Bard struggled to keep his voice at a whisper. “Do I have to shoot a dwarf today?”

 

            Bain frowned at him, shaking his head with a laugh. “Da, you _know_ that they wouldn’t have. They may be in love but they’re not fools.”

 

            Bard closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. “You’re right. Of course you are right.” _She was still the same overcautious Sigrid, still his daughter; no matter who she married or how far away she went_. He looked at his son. “Go on and enjoy the celebrations.” Bain nodded and turned to go. “But don’t think that we’ve finished discussing your part in orchestrating this.” He called to his son’s retreating figure.

 

Bain did not look back.

 

Bard pressed the goblet to his lips, watching over the rim as Sigrid laughed with Fíli at something his mother was saying to Kíli. But despite the euphoria that danced in his daughter’s eyes, Bard could not bring himself to share in it.

 

            Thorin stepped up beside him. “Did you know about that?” he asked gruffly, gesturing to where Fíli and Sigrid stood.

 

            “I knew nothing. Did you?”

 

            “No.”

 

They both glowered at the pair while all around them people cheerily bustled about and preparing for the celebration.

 

            Balin stepped up beside them and followed their gaze. “Ah yes, they will make a fine pair.” He hummed merrily, his cheeks slightly flushed and a goblet in his hand. “I don’t believe I’ve seen two so well matched in all my time. Although, who would have thought it after the first day of the Council!”

 

Thorin and Bard merely grunted and Balin’s eyes narrowed as he looked expectantly at the pair of them.

 

            “I should have seen it!” Bard exclaimed at last. “I should have known that her heart wasn’t in the betrothal. I’m her father.” He stared down at the mulberry contents of his goblet.

 

            Balin looked to Thorin, who nodded in agreement. The old dwarf chuckled. “Alas I’m afraid to say that the blame for _that_ matter sits squarely upon the shoulders of those who raised them. They were each prepared to sacrifice true happiness for the good of others. Where do you suppose they learnt that?” He chortled at their expressions. “Fortunately, I believe we have good reason to hope that _together_ they will not repeat the mistakes of our past.” He patted them each on the back and then retreated to seek out his brother.

 

They stood together in contemplative silence as the celebrations continued in earnest around them, then Thorin took a long draught from his goblet and held out his hand to Bard, who shook it. Their eyes met in mutual understanding and unspoken gratitude, then Thorin turned and moved away through the throngs.

 

Bard continued to watch his daughter as she slowly made her way through the crowds of people waiting to congratulate her and Fíli. He saw the grace with which she composed herself, saw the genuine joy in her eyes as she spoke with her people, and he saw the queen she had become.

 

 At that moment Sigrid looked up and caught his eye, tilting her head slightly in concern. And Bard met his daughter’s gaze with a soft smile, lifting his goblet in a silent toast and drinking to all that she was and all that she would become.

 

 

Later, as Sigrid and Fíli were turned about to be congratulated by a suspiciously watery eyed Dwalin, Dís caught sight of her brother's form retreating surreptitiously from the hall.

 

            Snorting in exasperation, she turned to her youngest son. "Go to him and explain. He needs to hear it from you."

 

            Kíli followed her gaze and the smile faded from his face. "Maybe I should wait until he's had some time..." He began, but Dís fixed her son with such a fierce gaze that his voice trailed off meekly. So Kíli merely nodded and followed his uncle from the hall, walking as one who was approaching his execution.

 

 

He found Thorin standing beneath the boughs of the acorn tree that had sprouted from the blood soaked ground and rubble over three years. Today, it grew taller and stronger than any ordinary tree, at the heart of the city square, with its branches adorned with festoons of garlands and orbs of brightly coloured glass floats from the Lake. Thorin stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a boot resting on an exposed root as the canopy above shifted in the breeze and filtered shards of light upon his upturned face.

 

It felt almost rude to intrude upon his solitude and Kíli nearly turned away, but the thought of what his mother would say spurned him on.

 

            When Kíli reached his uncle they were quiet for a moment. The odd person bustled across the Square, balancing stacks of dishes and barrels of ale for the coming celebration. Then, at last, Thorin spoke. "So, you sent a letter to each of the dwarf families announcing Erebor's intentions to bind the Line of Durin to the race of men before Dale had accepted, and before Dain had pledged his support." It wasn't a question.

 

Kíli just nodded, bracing himself for the oncoming tirade. Thorin's impassive tone was unnerving in place of his usual irascibility.

 

            "And what, did you plan to do if Dale did not accept or if Dain had not given his support?"

 

Kíli opened his mouth to explain the lengths he and Bain had gone to in order to prevent such an outcome, but no such words would come. _Why should he have to defend himself and Bain for what they had done?_

 

            "All we asked of them was to put aside the pride of their race for love and loyalty to their kin. That's all. Yes, it was reckless, so punish us as you wish, but I'm not sorry we did it and neither are you." He lifted his chin defiantly at his uncle. "There was a time when you risked everything to reclaim a kingdom, why was this risk any different?"

 

This time it was Thorin's turn to be rendered speechless. He looked to his nephew whose righteous passion was so alike Frerin; Thorin's own brother. And in that moment he had to fight back a laugh because Frerin would have done the same; Frerin would have marched to the Iron Hills and dragged Dain back by force if necessary, Frerin would have sent outright threats demanding allegiance, and Fíli would have confided in Frerin.

 

            "And another thing;" Kíli continued, throwing caution to the wind. “I'm going to ask Tauriel to marry me-"

 

            "I know."

 

            "-with or without your permission, If I have to renounce my place in the Line of Durin I wi-" then it hit him. "You know?"

 

Thorin nodded and a smug smirk curled his lips.

 

            "Bu-but how long have you known?" Kíli stammered. "Why didn't you say anything?"

 

            "I gathered that you planned on marrying the Elf after you told us of your efforts today."

 

Kíli frowned, even more confused.

 

            "You sought out Dain to secure the succession when by the laws of our people it ought to be your children next in line. A clever move, it will give our people faith in the future of Erebor should Fíli and Sigrid be unable to produce an heir."

 

            Kíli simply looked dumbfounded. He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts and then looked up hopefully. "You will allow it?"

 

            Thorin let out a bark-like laugh. "After all that has happened today, I do not believe that I could stop you if I tried!"

 

Kíli face split in a wide grin and he pulled his uncle into a crushing embrace, taking Thorin quite by surprise though he readily accepted it.

 

            Then another thought crossed Kíli's mind and he stepped backwards. "You never shared what you knew with my mother, did you?" He asked shrewdly.

 

            Thorin eyes narrowed. “If you ever mention that I kept this from her, you will find yourself with less hair than you were born with!"

 

 

Later, when all official discussion had been conducted and all important documents witnessed and signed, the Dwarves and Men alike gathered to celebrate in their Valley. The Bakers had carried down sweet fruit pies, the butchers had raided their stores for assortments of smoked and cured meats, and Thranduil had somehow managed to produce a few barrels of mulled wine.

 

The golden dusk sky cast a warm glow over all and a light summer breeze wafted the smell of food through the air as the melodies of harps and fiddles mingled with chatter and the bells of Dale chimed in the near distance.

 

Tilda held the attentions of Dwalin and Legolas, who still did not look entirely sure what he was doing there, but it seemed that another archery contest was imminent. Bain, who had taken it upon himself to try to appease the Dorwinions, found himself subject to a thorough education on the intricacies and virtues of wine. Thranduil was deep in discussion with Bard, who kept casting disapproving glances at his son. Dain was regaling the children of Dale with Dwarvish legends and tales, carefully scrutinised and censored by Dori, while Thorin and Balin sat together observing the scene before them.

 

            "Are you certain that now is the best time?" Tauriel asked anxiously as Kíli led her by the hand through the crowd. "Might this not be too much for one day?"

 

            Kíli stopped in his tracks to stare at incredulously her. "You are a warrior of _two_ kingdoms and have faced down the fiercest creatures in the land, yet you're worried about my mother?"

 

            "Your mother _is_ one of the fiercest creatures in the land." Tauriel exclaimed.

 

            "Fair point." Kíli acknowledged. “Do you want to wait?”

 

            Tauriel took a deep breath and then shook her head. “Not another day.”

 

They walked together hand in hand to where Dis stood with her back to them.

 

            “Amad,” Kíli said, tapping his mother on the shoulder. “There is someone very dear to me that I want you to meet.”

 

****

 

 

Later, Sigrid and Fíli sat looking down upon the valley from atop the ramparts over Erebor.

 

            "So tell me again," Sigrid said, tugging Fíli's furs tighter about her shoulders. "What exactly did our brothers put in those letters?"

 

            Fíli grinned and gently pulled Sigrid closer to him. "They sent letters to each of the Dwarf families announcing that I wished to marry you.”

 

            “That was all it took?”

 

            Fíli hesitated. “Well…they might have mentioned the fact that they had not come to our aid to either reclaim or defend the Mountain, and something about ‘if they wished to ever revive _our_ aid it would be in their best interest to recognise the legitimacy of the future Queen of Erebor’."

 

            Sigrid's eyes widened. "So they blackmailed them?"

 

            "Essentially, yes." he grimaced.

 

            "And I thought we were the reckless ones.”

 

Fíli laughed.

 

            She leant her head against his shoulder as they watched their people dance on the grassy fields below. "It won't be as easy as this, will it? They haven't received the replies from the other dwarf families yet.”

 

            "Nothing will be as easy as this." Fíli kissed the top of her bowed head. "But it won't be impossible. You see, as soon as we got Dain’s support it didn't matter if we had the approval of the other families because we had already secured a powerful ally; too powerful for them to dare challenge."

 

            Sigrid nodded thoughtfully and then winced. "I can picture your uncle's face when Kíli told him what they had done. Could you imagine if this afternoon hadn't gone to plan?"

 

            Fíli sighed. "Thorin punished him for that diplomatic venture with a permanent position on every Council Erebor has. He won't know his own name after a week of sitting in on the Treasury Council with Gloin."

 

Sigrid grinned.

 

            "I wouldn't laugh;" Fíli advised. "In five years’ time when I'm on the throne, we'll both be doing the same!"

 

            She looked up at him. "You wish for me to sit on the Councils of Erebor with you?"

 

            "Of course! I’d be a fool not to have the smartest woman in the land at my side. Besides, who else is going to keep my pride in line?"

 

Sigrid's whole body shook against his as she laughed.

 

            "I've missed that sound." He said quietly.

 

            She turned her head and lifted a finger to trace his jaw. "I've missed this face."

 

This time when their lips met they savoured it as thought they had all the time in the world for such things, and they did.

 

            Opening her eyes slowly, Sigrid leant her forehead against his. "My King."

 

            "Yes my Queen?"

 

            "Let's go celebrate."

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kíli and Thorin's conversation took place under the acorn tree for two reasons. 1) In a way it loosely parallels Bilbo's experience of clarity when he climbed the tree in Mirkwood. 2) As you might have guessed, I have gone with the version where Bilbo planted the acorn tree in Dale. Thorin knew about the acorn, he would have realised who planted it, and I imagine he would find comfort in visiting it.  
> Xxx  
> Mont Girl of Lumatere


	16. Dawn

 

Artwork by the lovely http://bagofgroceries.tumblr.com/

_** ** _

 

_**"Forever and Ever"** \- Royal Wood_

_These two rivers meet,_   
_they run together._   
_I will be with you,_   
_for worse or better._   
_We'll keep travelling_   
_long as the sun lies._   
_‘Cause my future met_

 

* * *

 

 

-Five Years Later-

 

Normally, Sigrid didn't mind the meetings of the Valley council; in fact, she often found that she looked forward to the vigorous debates and negotiations required to reach an accord between the men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor. But today, on such a momentous day as this, she would rather have been anywhere else.

 

         "The fencing on those paddocks needs to be seen to immediately." Announced one of the representatives from Dale. "If I have to chase one more blasted goat off of my crops, I'll kill it!" 

 

         "You'll do no such thing, Hilda." Sigrid said sternly from the head of the table.

 

         "Those fences are of dwarf making; there's nought a latch more secure in the land." Bifur growled. "You'd best find the thief who's settin' them goats loose before I chop him down ta stumps!" 

 

         "You'll do no such thing, Bifur." Sigrid repeated forcefully. "We will have the fences inspected and set a shepherd to watch the goats at night."

 

And so it went on.

 

As she sat at the table, the voices of the representative slowly ebbed away from the grasp of her consciousness. Her thoughts strayed this way and that, meandering beyond the studded oak doors of the council chamber to the city beyond, where all of Erebor would be abuzz with anticipation. The Dwarves would be rushing back and forth along the stone causeways as they carted dishes upon dishes of succulent meats, stacked loaves of sweetbread, and barrels of spiced wines into the feasting halls. The Hall of Kings would be given one last meticulous scour to ensure that it was resplendent and fit to host representatives from kingdoms far flung across the land.

 

Sigrid felt the tangled mess of nerves low in her stomach twist and strain.

 

_"You cannot carry the weight of a kingdom upon your shoulders, my love." She had said when she caught him worrying at the future that lay before them._

_"And yet I must." He replied. "For if I do not, then who will?"_

_"I will."_

 

A small smile spread across her lips, for it was true that once today's ceremony was over, they would truly share in the burden. But then again, they had never needed a ceremony for such things. 

 

Her mind strayed further away, lingering in the memory of the other means by which they had passed that rare afternoon of shared freedom...

 

Suddenly there was a loud and abrupt cough beside her and Sigrid started. Brought sharply back to the present she looked up, only to find the faces of the Council turned towards her, expectantly.

 

         "What is your opinion, Princess Sigrid?" Prompted Hilda.

 

Beside her, Ori shifted his hand inconspicuously, and on the pretence of taking a swig from her goblet before embarking upon a longwinded speech, Sigrid glanced at the last words that Ori had transcribed.

 

_Winter crop rotation._

 

Sigrid took a deep breath, glancing hopefully at the door as she replaced the goblet. She had anticipated the question and prepared her solution, but a vital part of that solution was yet to arrive at the council. She would have to stall for time.

 

         "The matter at hand is of no small consequence." She began calmly. "Although the success of the irrigation project has revived the soil in the valley, these times of peace have also seen the population of our two kingdoms growing by the day. So, it is imperative that the grain stores record a surplus, and that the next cycle of crops sown survive the oncoming winter. Now, neither of our kingdoms can claim to be in possession of expert agrarian knowledge unless the crops we count are rock and fish-" There was a good-natured chuckle from both sides and she smiled indulgently at them. "But today, of all days, we are reminded of two things; the first, is that our new beginnings are built upon the foundations of history and tradition, and second, that the ties which bind us to our neighbours have never been stronger." 

 

Dwalin slipped between the double oak doors and gave her a small direct nod. Sigrid allowed herself a private grin of victory before continuing. 

 

         "I propose two concurrent courses of action." She said, getting to her feet. "The first is that we send for Aeron, the keeper of the old and new Chronicles of Dale, and glean the wisdom of Dale's ancestors from its pages. Second, we seek the advice of an ally who is an expert." She motioned for Dwalin to open the chamber doors as she strode towards them, and then proffered her arm to the person who stepped through.

 

The figure who took her arm was shorter than she, still wearing a worn travelling coat over his neat, gold buttoned waistcoat, and with his disproportionately large and hairy feet utterly bare despite the cool stone floor.

 

         "Apologies, my Lady. I'm not late am I?" Bilbo Baggins asked, dusting off his travelling coat.

 

         "Not at all, Master Baggins." Sigrid returned with a smile. "Fíli and I are so glad that you could join us today." She turned about so that the figure was in view of the curious waiting council.  "I have invited Master Bilbo Baggins to preside as our expert over this morning’s meeting." 

 

         There was an uproar of recognition and calls of greeting. Sigrid smiled. "I believe many of you are already acquainted with him."

 

 

After that, it took some time for decorum to recommence but once it had Bilbo was able put matters to order; Barley, oats, and potatoes. Naturally, this would need to be correlated with the Chronicles, but Sigrid and the councillors had every faith in their expert.

 

 

Once the Valley council was resolved, Sigrid stood by the door as the representatives departed, each wishing her the best for the coming ceremony, and one or two adding a conspiratorial emphasis to her title of  _Princess_  as they left. 

 

When the table was at last cleared, Sigrid closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 

         "Shall I send for tea," the hobbit's voice suggested. "Or perhaps something stronger?" 

 

         She chuckled. "Thank you Master Baggins, but I'm afraid that if Dori or Tilda thought I was here drinking with you instead of getting ready, they would hear about it and haul me away before the first drop was poured!"

 

         Dwalin cleared his throat. "We'd best keep moving then, my Lady."

 

         Sigrid nodded, the nerves in her stomach twisting again. She turned apologetically to Bilbo. "I'm afraid I must be going."

 

         "Then allow me to offer myself as escort." Bilbo held out an arm and leant towards her conspiratorially. "Dwalin might be Erebor's best guard, but I can assure you that my company is far more loquacious."

 

Sigrid stifled a snort and Dwalin glowered silently. She took Bilbo's proffered arm and the three of them departed the council chambers.

 

         "I must admit that I did not believe Thorin's letter when he first wrote to me." Bilbo said as Dwalin lead them through the less frequented corridors of Erebor. "To think of Bard's daughter betrothed to Thorin's nephew!" He shook his head. "I do suppose that most of your guests today are here to reconcile their similar disbelief."

 

         "I suppose so." Sigrid agreed, lifting her chin. "But I'm inclined to believe it would do them some good to see two kingdoms united and old feuds resolved."

 

         The hobbit chuckled and patted her arm. "That spirit will serve you well when in the company of Dwarfs, my dear." He peered up at her shrewdly. "Are you nervous?"

 

         Sigrid considered for a moment. They were now high above the core of the Mountain and the amassing din of voices from the gathering masses below echoed up to them. "I am I suppose." She began. "At first I was excited; we've waited for so long for this day, but now that it's here..." Sigrid took a deep steadying breath as the straining nerves in her stomach threatened nausea. She mastered her expression into a smile. "But I have Fíli -well, I have him most of the time." 

 

         "Hmm yes, I was surprised he was not at the meeting, but then I suppose he is at the mercy of his uncle's last minute advice before the ceremony." They came to a stop outside the doors to private chamber. "Never the less, I did manage to give him my regards briefly before joining you, and he bade me deliver this." Bilbo reached into the breast pocket of his waistcoat and from behind a handkerchief he pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

 

Sigrid took the letter from his outstretched hand and unfolding it, she indeed saw Fíli's hurried scrawl. Her hand flew to lips and she looked up from the letter, unable to speak.

 

         "My gift." The hobbit explained. "It isn't much when you will have an entire kingdom at the end of the day, but I know that you will see its worth."

 

         Sigrid threw her arms around him before bending down to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Master Baggins!" She whispered.

 

         "Yes, well." Bilbo looked a little bit flustered. Then he looked up at her warmly. "I wish you both a lifetime of joy, with all my heart. And should you ever need my help, for anything -even more council meetings-, I would be honoured to be at your service." Then he turned and hurried away.

 

Without needing to be asked, Dwalin turned his back so that she might have a moment's privacy.

 

Sigrid opened Fíli's letter.

 

_To my wife,_

_It has been four years and yet you cannot possibly fathom the joy it gives me to write those words._

_I apologise for the empty pillow you awoke beside this morning. Thorin demanded that I meet with him for one final time before the coronation ceremony._

_Writing those two words is considerably less enjoyable._

_But then I remember you. I remember what you told me five years ago, I remember the vows we exchanged four years ago, and I remember that -just like then- you will be by my side today as Queen._

_It is that knowledge alone that keeps me from running away and leaving Kíli take my place!_

_Please know that I am also by your side and that I love you more than I can say. Perhaps if I loved you less, I could talk about it more._

_So for now these words will have to suffice._

_Until later,_

_Fíli._

 

Sigrid finished the letter, and with her mind made up she turned to her guard.

 

         "Dwalin, we're making a detour."

 

         "My Lady?"

 

         She folded the letter and tucked it into her bodice. "I need to see my husband."

 

 

 

Thorin paced back and forth in his chamber, a fur trimmed mazarine blue cape swishing in the wake of his stride. "Remember, you need to inspire the confidence and faith of our people today. Make them see the future of Erebor as you see it; as you have shown me. Make them believe in it." He turned on his heel to make sure his nephew was listening.

 

Fíli sat on a stool in the middle of the chamber at the mercy of his mother's precision with a comb. Had it been any other day he wouldn't have bothered to tidy his hair. Had it been any other day Sigrid would tend to it. She would trace patterns across his scalp with her slender fingers and gently run them through his hair, teasing the tangles apart in such a way that would cause him to close his eyes as groan with pleasure, until neither of them could stand the distance any longer.

 

His mother, on the other hand, seemed determined to make his hair part company with his scalp, and she would slap his hand away every time he tried to intervene.

 

         Balin clicked his tongue. "And keep in mind when you greet one of the Broadbeam clan-"

 

         "I know, Balin. Clasp his forearm with three fingers and recite the blessings of Aluë." Fíli interjected. They had only gone over the matter and hour ago. "You needn't worry." He assured his first advisor.

 

         Balin narrowed his eyes. "Never confuse their histories or customs with the Firebeards. They may seem as close as brothers, but if you fail to acknowledge their individual customs you will have lost the respect of  _both_  as allies. And it is not uncommon for them to spit on your robes as a sign of respect." He added.

 

         "Idiots." Dís muttered, giving a good tug on Fíli's hair. "The greatest purveyors of bullshit since that Elf King." 

 

Thorin wasn't listening. 

 

         "When you address your people after the ceremony, you must emphasise the new beginning; the dawn of a new era."

 

         "Thorin," Fíli said through gritted teeth, as his head was tugged violently in another direction. "We've been through this already."

 

         But Thorin was now reciting distractedly under his breath. "Then you follow up by announcing the new trade agreement with the men of the south through Dale." He stopped pacing again to look up at his nephew. "Dain and his people will want to know if there is any news of an heir."

 

Fíli nearly choked.

 

         "It really would be ideal, lad." Balin agreed. "It would go a long way to reinforce the certainty of a future for Erebor."

 

         "I cannot just produce an heir on command because it suits my kingship!" Fíli exclaimed in exasperation as his head was tugged this way and that.

 

         "That's not for lack of trying, judging from the noises coming from your chambers." His mother smirked.

 

Fíli closed his eyes and begged Mahal for the patience not to stand up and walk away from them all.

 

         "Yes," Thorin grimaced. "I would have expected an announcement before now." He turned so that his back was to his nephew before he spoke next. "You're not...there aren't any... difficulties?"

 

Fíli silently began counting to ten; clearly Mahal had chosen to abandon him in his time of need.

 

         "You know, Óin has been called on to consult with many a husband and wife on such matters." Balin advised kindly. "An infusion of red clover, saffron. I'll have wild yam sent for." He turned towards a laden table and began shuffling through stacks of parchment.

 

_One. Two. Three._

 

         "There is something to be said for the way the deed is performed." Dís mused. "Dear Sigrid is rather tall. You know, perhaps you ought to try and twist-"

 

Fíli's wasn't the only voice to vehemently protest further elaboration.

 

         Dís scoffed, waving them off. "Fíli, all I'm saying is that your brother came as a bit of a shock, but I will swear on my life that it was because your father had a certain skilful way of-"

 

At that moment there came a knock at the door, and when Dwalin appeared with the message that Kíli and Tauriel had arrived and wished to see him, Fíli sent a prayer of repentance and thanks to all the Valar for his salvation. He leapt up from the stool and out of reach of his mother's comb, exiting the room before another word could be said.

 

 

         "Dwalin, if you ever find yourself in need of anything, remind me of the trauma you just rescued me from, and it shall be done." He muttered through gritted teeth.

 

         "Aye, It's not me you'll be thanking." and for some reason, Dwalin smirked.

 

Fíli frowned as they continued along the corridor. "But why did Kíli not come to Thorin's chamber? It has been almost three years since they set off." 

 

         Dwalin stopped abruptly along a shadowed corridor, turning to Fíli. "I'll ask you to remember what I just rescued you from when I tell you that I lied about ye' brother." He pointed along the empty corridor to an alcove. 

 

Fíli raised an eyebrow.

 

         "She's waiting for you. Five minutes. I'll be at the other end of the hall." Then Dwalin turned and walked away, pausing only to call over his shoulder. "And for Mahal's sake, I don't want to hear anything!"

 

Fíli grinned. There could only be one awaiting him.

 

As soon as he stepped into the alcove, two hands were upon his chest, fingers gripping his shirt and pulling him forwards. Then he felt her breath against the nape of his neck, heard her voice low and husky on his ear.

 

         "Fíli."

 

And then her mouth was upon his, capturing his lips in hers. Her kisses spoke of longing, her fingers digging into his chest shouted of a desperate need to feel him, to be connected to him. And he returned it in equal measure.

 

         They shuffled backwards almost clumsily, further into the shadows until they were against a low ledge carved into the wall. Fíli's fingers found their way to her waist and he shifted them so she sat upon it. A primal growl escaped from his mouth and he cupped her face in his hands before pulling away, a grin spreading across his lips. "I missed you too, my love." 

 

         She leant forwards and pressed her forehead to his as they caught their breath. "Is this to be our life now; forced to snatch only moments together in shadowed corners of our kingdom?"

 

         "There's a lot that can be done in snatched moments." He reasoned with a devilish grin.

 

         "Five minutes?"

 

         He stepped closer into the space between them. "Hmm might not be long enough, I'm afraid Dwalin will have to be bribed."

 

         "Oh yes," Sigrid sighed dramatically. "We’ll just add him to the long list of people in need of placating in this kingdom  _and_  in Dale."

 

Fíli cocked his head shrewdly. "The Council went well then?"

 

         "No shouting today, one or two death threats. I'll need to go down and see the farmers tomorrow so we know whether or not to order more seeds, and I want an updated account of the grain and seed stocks before the farmers set to sowing, the irrigation cisterns need to be checked, and then I have to find a shepherd for those goats before Hilda has them turned to stew. And that's just what needs doing in the Valley!" Sigrid paused to draw a deep breathe.

 

         He reached up to trace along her jaw. In the shadows of the alcove her face was half hidden from him, all the lines and hollows thrown into sharp relief, and it troubled him to see the shadows beneath her eyes. "You cannot solve everyone's problems, my love. There isn't enough time in the world for one person to do so much."

 

         "I am a princess of one land and soon to be queen of another. I will make time."

 

         He laughed at her stubborn resolution. "There will always be something or someone to worry about, but there will also always be someone to help us fix it. That is the beauty of being a princess of one land and a queen of another."

 

         Sigrid smiled and leant her cheek into the palm of his hand. "When did my husband get so old and wise?" She teased.

 

         "Wiser, but not older." Fíli whispered.

 

And there it was; the simple tragedy that had the power to choke their words. And although it might have seemed that with each day they moved inexorably towards this doom, if there was anything they knew it was that the power of their love was mightier than their sorrows. And it was this resolution that brought their lips crashing back together with a hunger that was almost frightening, searching each other out in the dark, holding on for all they were worth.

 

         "Oh please, don't let us interrupt you." Drawled a familiar voice. "It's not as though there is a ceremony to be getting on with."

 

Fíli and Sigrid broke apart, looking around to see Kíli standing in the opening of the alcove, with Tauriel by his side.

 

There was a cry of joy as brothers and friends were reunited, and they threw their arms around each other.

 

         Fíli gripped his brother's shoulders fiercely. "It's been too long."

 

         "Much too long." Kíli agreed solemnly. He looked his brother up and down. "You've gotten fatter."

 

         "I've still got a longer beard than you." Fíli retorted, and his hand snaked out to swipe his younger brother across the back of his head.

 

Tauriel and Sigrid rolled their eyes as the brothers wrestled like children.

 

         And then Dwalin stalked down to corridor towards them, looking thunderous. "Oi! I sent you down 'ere to pull those two apart and now I have to pull the two of you apart!" 

 

Fíli and Kíli straightened up, faces flushed as they grinned.

 

         "Just like old times, Dwalin." Kíli laughed, thumping him on the back.

 

The corner of Dwalin's mouth twitched. 

 

         "There will be plenty of time to  _talk_  later, but we cannot delay anymore." Tauriel prompted them.

 

         "As my wife commands." Kíli saluted.

 

         Fíli turned to Sigrid. "I will see you on the other side of all this madness."

 

         "Always."

 

Fíli pressed a parting kiss to his wife's cheek, and Kíli leant forwards and whispered something into to Tauriel's ear that made her laugh and then squeeze his hand tightly. But Dwalin cleared his throat and so they swiftly parted ways.

 

 

 

         "Oh how I've missed you." Sigrid sighed happily to Tauriel, as Dwalin lead them back the way they had come. "I cannot imagine that a few days will be enough time for you to tell all the stories of your travels, for I want to hear everything of the lands beyond before you leave again."

 

         "Then I suppose it is a good thing that we may not leave again for some time." Tauriel replied cryptically.

  

         Sigrid looked at her in surprise. "But you were both so eager to travel and see the world beyond these realms after you were wed!"

 

         "Yes, we were." Tauriel agreed. 

 

Sigrid began to wonder if a small part of her friend was enjoying toying with her curiosity. Evidently prolonged proximity to Kíli had side effects.

 

They had nearly reached the chambers and they could now hear the sound of voices. Dori's voice was distinct in its frantic pitch as he ordered someone to find the Princess immediately and bring her to be dressed lest she be crowned queen looking like a Bargeman's daughter. 

 

         But before they rounded the corner, Tauriel stopped and took Sigrid's hand. "My dear, there is something I wish to show you." 

 

Sigrid's brow furrowed in confusion but Tauriel simply lead her forwards.

 

         "Durin's beard and dragon dropping, do you know what time it is!" Dori squawked as he caught sight of them.

 

         "My apologies Dori. I had an urgent matter to be seen to." Sigrid apologised contritely.

 

She heard Dwalin's less than subtle snort.

 

Dori shook his head and turned around to wave his hand at the harem of attendants waiting in the doorway. They retreated back into the chamber; Dori already barking out instructions for water to be reheated and fresh herbs to be brought.

 

As the dwarrows retreated, Tilda stepped out from behind them, and Sigrid's heart leapt to see her, then her breath caught in her throat to see what her sister cradled in her arms.

 

Tilda rocked the swaddled babe gently in her arms, cooing softly as the child's green eyes took in the strange underground world around it.

 

         "She is yours?" Sigrid breathed.

 

Tauriel nodded, gently taking her daughter into her arms. The babe gurgled in delight to see its mother. 

         

         "But you never said-"

 

         "When we learnt I was carrying her, we were terrified." Tauriel explained.  "We had no way of knowing if she would be healthy, if I would be able to deliver her, or even how long I could carry her. So we travelled to Rivendell and sought the advice of Lord Elrond, who is a learned healer." Tauriel looked up at Sigrid. "I wanted to write to you a thousand times, my dear, for I knew that you above all would understand those fears as well as I."

 

Sigrid bit her lip.

 

         There was a knowing look in Tauriel's eye. "Until all was well, I did not want to burden you with doubt and more fear."

 

Dazed, Sigrid reached out a hand to the babe. A chubby fist stretched out and seized her finger with a surprising strength and the child peered at her.

 

         "I will not lie and say that my time was easy, for I laboured long to bring her into the world. But my daughter was born strong and healthy." She smoothed the crop of raven black locks that already crowned the child's head. "Each day I learn more about her, and I suppose only time will tell from whom she takes after more; what traits and virtues of my people she claims, and what of Kíli's. But, she is healthy, as am I." 

 

         Sigrid looked up from the child to Tauriel. "You know?" She whispered.

 

         "I told her." Tilda affirmed, squeezing her arm. "Sigrid, this means that everything is going to be alright."

 

Sigrid nodded slowly, her mind turning with so many thoughts and emotions. Then the babe gurgled and swung her fist back and forth still clutching Sigrid's finger. She didn't know whether to cry or to laugh.

 

         "My lady," Dori poked his head around the door, now looking truly frantic. "We must get you ready!"

 

Tilda rolled her eyes and stepped through the door, Tauriel following with her daughter. But Sigrid paused one last time before the threshold. 

 

         Dwalin looked between her and the door. "If you need ta' be rescued just send for me, my Queen."

 

         "I'm not a Queen yet, Dwalin." Sigrid reminded him.

 

         The warrior shrugged his broad shoulders. "Might as well be to me."

               

         Sigrid laughed, a twinkle in her eye. "In that case, I ought to be able to face this myself." And with that, she stepped through the door.

 

 

 

The dwarrow women had prepared a basin of warm lavender scented water, and Sigrid was shed of her overclothes as they dipped washcloths in the warm water, humming softly in khuzdul as they bathed her. 

 

They had hardly begun the ritual when Dís burst into the room, scattering the women and demanding to see her granddaughter. And it was the first time Sigrid had ever seen her cry, as she tenderly took the babe into her strong arms.

 

Then the coronation dress was brought forth to much appreciative reverence, and her kinswoman remarked on its likeness in style to the dress worn by the former queen under the Mountain -only with longer proportions. Dís proudly observed that the colouring was of the same crimson maroon as Fíli's own regalia. 

 

Then Sigrid retreated behind a partitioned shade and Tauriel and Tilda slipped the dress over her head and began to lace the intricate stays. As they did, Tilda regaled them with the news that Bain was in love.

 

         "The story they're telling in the marketplace is that the young prince of Dale was out riding through the wilds when he came across a peasant girl from one of loyal outlying villages. They are saying that the moment he set eyes upon her he was utterly smitten by her beauty and kindness." Tilda rolled her eyes as she hooked and tied the stay.

 

         Sigrid scoffed, wincing slightly as her brocade was tightened about her chest. "And what is Bain saying?"

 

         "Almost the same." Tilda shrugged. "Except he tells it that she held him at sword point when he first arrived in her village; apparently he looked nothing like 'a proper Prince'."

 

         Tauriel chuckled. "I think I might rather like this wild peasant girl."

 

 

When Sigrid emerged in her dress it was to many sighs and nay a dry eye.

 

She was brought around to a low stool and Dori began to craft her hair, weaving through rubies and gold chains like lace, as the dwarrow woman recited their stories of the queens of old.

 

Sigrid laughed along with them; these dwarves who had become her friends, her kin. And somewhere between Dori's fussing and the laughter of the women, and the thought of the news she would share with Fíli later that night, Sigrid quite forgot to be nervous.

 

 

 

It became apparent that Dís had no intention of giving up her granddaughter any time soon. When they arrived at the Hall of Kings, a crowd of curious and excited onlookers surrounded Dís and the babe.

 

Kíli and Tauriel watched on from the sidelines, their hands intertwined between them.

 

         "She's clearly inherited my charming personality." Kíli proclaimed approvingly.

 

         Tauriel snorted. "Just wait until they learn that she had your uncle's temperament."

 

They watched as Dís proudly pointed out the raven tresses upon the child's head, and Kíli frowned as Nori proclaimed that she already had more hair than her father. They watched as the dwarves clucked and fussed around the child; Dwalin  ordering Ori to knit a pair of boots for the little princess's feet, Bofur letting her reach up to grasp the pointed tip of his hat in her chubby fist. And they watched and their daughter giggled and gurgled at the faces around her.

 

         "What would you say if I suggested that we stay put for a few years?" Kíli began, turning to his wife. "I know that it is in your heart to see more of the world beyond their lands, and believe me when I say that I share-"

 

         Tauriel silenced him with a kiss. "I would say yes." She replied earnestly. "Our daughter deserves a family."

 

         Kíli blinked, somewhat dazed. "You- you want to stay?"

 

         "Well, I do believe that you made a promise five years ago that you would build me a house one day."

 

Kíli laughed and his eyes were alight with joy as he lifted his wife into the air and swung her about, not caring that they were drawing all eyes, not caring that people had to step out of their way. And when at last he set her down, Kíli kissed Tauriel for all to see.

 

 

 

The deeps drums of the mountain began to pulse and the guests who had gathered in the Hall of Kings and in the onlooking galleries fell silent. 

 

They turned their heads to see King Thorin standing upon a raised dais, the Raven crown of Durin's folk resting upon his head. Princess Dís stood by his side, her mother's crown of gold and quartz stone in her hands. And then the Wizard Gandalf took up his place at the foot of the dais beside an ancient stone plinth, for although he had protested not to meddle in the affairs of kings, he had allowed the invitation to find him and accepted.

 

The voices of the dwarves began to hum like the low rumble of rock, and Gandalf raised his arms.

 

From the east appeared the future queen, stepping into the Hall with her head held high. 

 

And from the West stepped the future King. Gold was his mane and strength and nobility was his regimen.

 

With each pulse of the drum they walked along the stone path, past King Bard who looked on with deep pride, past the bowing men and women of Dale clad in their finest and brightest colours, past the Elven King whose expression of mellow indifference flickered ever so slightly as the future queen of Erebor passed by him. 

 

They met where their paths joined in the centre of the hall before turning, as one towards the dais and the thrones. As they did so the armoured dwarves who lined the path raised their axes in a salute, and they passed beneath, hand in hand.

 

Gandalf lowered his arms as they reached the dais and the humming of the dwarves died down as Fíli and Sigrid prostrated themselves upon the first step.

 

         "The hour has come to bid the night farewell." The wizard cried, his voice echoing through the cavernous hall. "The time has come to wake from your healing, to move beyond the realms of days past. The hour has come to welcome the dawn."

 

Dain stepped forwards and proclaimed the litany of the Durin, calling for valour, honour and strength to guide the new King and Queen.

 

Then Princess Dís descended the steps of the dais and held the crown of the queen aloft. She met Sigrid's eyes with a smile and began to sing.

 

_"Born of water and the blood of old Dale,_

_Unto a new queen Durin's folk hail,_

_And the halls will echo with the cry, the banners far be seen,_

_Long live the Queen!"_

 

And as the crowd of men, elves, and dwarves echoed her final words, she placed the crown upon Sigrid's head.

 

Sigrid lifted her head, her eyes blazing.

 

Dís then stepped down from the dais to stand beside Kíli, Tauriel, and Dwalin, whose hand slipped into hers.

 

Then it was Fíli's turn, and the silence that fell upon the hall was profound.

 

Thorin slowly descended the stone steps, his eyes locked with his nephew. It seemed to them both that they were walking the final steps of a journey they had begun long, long ago. And none were privy to the words that passed silently between King and heir as Thorin reached for the crown and lifted it from his head. Then he began to sing.

 

_"Under mountain, and under carven stone,_

_A new king has come unto the throne,_

_And as his crown be upholden, the folk of Durin shall sing,_

_Long live the King!"_

  


And as the crowd shouted the words, Thorin set the crown of Erebor upon Fíli's head.

 

         "Long live the Queen and long live the King." He repeated softly.

 

And as the chant was taken up and repeated, the deep drums took up their beat and the bells of Dale chimed in the distance, so they stood together at last and ascended the dais before turning to face their kin; a King and a Queen before all the land.

 

And as Thorin Oakenshield looked about him at the men, elves, and dwarves who had gathered together for the event, he had to agree that the world was indeed a merrier place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, as dragons have their end so too does this fic.
> 
> Somebody once told me that the greatest gift that you can give another person is the belief that the words in their head have value. Thank you for letting the words in my head mean something.
> 
> I can honestly say that I wouldn't be who I am today without the love you have all shown me. Because of you all, I laugh a little louder, hold my head a little higher, and smile a lot more.
> 
> Ta ta for now!
> 
> With all my love,
> 
> Mont Girl of Lumatere  
> xxx


	17. Announcement and Bonus stuff

To my immense surprise and intense excitement (picture jumping up and down and making strange sounds while pointing to email), Dare You To Move has been nominated under the Romance Fanfic category for The Fanatic Fanfics Multifandom Awards!

Thanks so so so so so much to the kind anonymous soul who nominated me.

Can you guys believe that a fic centred on little tugboat Figrid is in this competition alongside the biggest and best known ships!

 

Normally I would just finish the fic and let you guys guess where it went from there, but in this case I just got so excited that I decided to share my thoughts on what would have happened afterwards.

•Tilda kept training with the guard of Dale in Tauriel's absence, eventually taking on her position as captain.  
•Yes, Sigrid was indeed pregnant. She told Fíli later that night.  
•Fíli swears up and down that he did not cry.  
•Kíli campaigned to have the child named in his honour since it was only by his intervention that the child was possible.  
•Thorin decided to delay his departure until after the child arrived safely  
•Sigrid went into labour during one of those council meetings.  
•She insisted that she was able to carry on, as the contractions were only mild. She had to order the councillors not to panic and leave their chairs.  
•Dwalin ignored her order and informed Fíli anyway who ordered her to stop being ridiculous and dissolved the meeting.  
•Sigrid was practically carried from the council chamber. She was still calling out instructions to the councillors as she left.  
•They had a daughter. She was born with a head of golden curls and lake-blue eyes.  
•Two brothers followed soon after. Twins.  
•When their daughter reached the age of majority, she announced that she wanted to challenge the rules of succession and assume the Throne as Queen Regnant.  
•She succeeded.


End file.
